


Prince of the Deadlands

by WaterMonkey



Category: Mamamoo, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alien Abduction, Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Planet, Alien Technology, Alien/Human Relationships, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Aliens, Alternate Universe - Jupiter Ascending (2015), Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Arranged Marriage, Awkward Crush, Colonization, Corruption, Cyberpunk, Earth, F/F, Human Experimentation, Interspecies Awkwardness, M/M, Magical Realism, Mars, OT7, Outer Space, Pretty much everyone is an alien but Jimin, Rewrite, Science, Science Experiments, Science Fiction, Shapeshifting, Slow Burn, Space Battles, Space Opera, Space Pirates, Space Stations, Strangers to Lovers, Swearing, human expansion, to Strangers to Lovers again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2020-08-10 05:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 60,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20129875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterMonkey/pseuds/WaterMonkey
Summary: “Ohh, babe!” Solar sprang to her feet, throwing him sideways onto the cot, “You want so badly to remember it's killing me!” She raked her fingers through her long rose gold hair and moaned. She looked a little possessed and Jimin wondered what was in her hot chocolate. What was inhishot chocolate? “But I can’t! I can’t! Not when Tae broke his own heart in the process!” She wailed. “He’s still kinda young, ya know? And he’s Amethyst so he’s already pretty inexperienced—”“He’s not that naïve.” Jimin blurted out and then stopped, gaping at her with wide confused eyes. “How do I know that?” He panicked. “Why do I know that?”“I can’t undo what Tae has done,” Solar's voice washed over him, pushing his fear back down, “but I can make it easier for you.”





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Glossary in ending notes for those who need it~  
Reference Images: [Padlet](https://padlet.com/twogreeneyes92/vcbtu55e1f74)
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/WaterMonkey16)

Starting in 2040, Earth began to colonize Mars under the guise of being an extension of the ISS. They cut the travel time between planets down to days and built deep man-made chasms into the Martian rock called Apertures to house their expanding population. They covered them with enormous glass domes to seal in oxygen and light, connected topside by a system of rails, usually for maintenance or space flight prep. Within the rock of the planet were security checkpoints that allowed movement between. Each Aperture was the equivalent of an Earth city, and none were more glorious than Mars’ capital, _ Halisca _. 

However, by 2090, tensions were already running hot between the two planets. Martians were tired of being bossed around by their big blue sister when they had children who had never even set foot on Earth growing stronger by the day. Some scholars were sniffing the air and saying, _ ‘Ahhh revolution’, _ while others called them the true illegal aliens. Despite hostilities, there was a significant platform, _ ‘Freedom for Mars! Freedom for Luna! __All humans were humans!'-- _despite how much they loved to enslave one another.

Park Jimin was born in 2074 on _Olympus__Mons, Halisca, Mars, Sol _, to Park Seungmin and Park Eunyoung, Governor and wife of Halisca. His father always told him to be proud of such patronage, as their society was based on elevation--the lesser at the bottom, and the elites at the top. And there was nowhere higher than the highest peak in the solar system. 

His life on the mountain was arguably perfect: he was engaged to a beautiful girl whose family owned half of Phobos, he attended the best institution on Mars (MaHU), and had had the same best friend since birth. What he didn’t know was that on a random day in 2083, his destiny would be set in motion, and more than just the fate of his mountain would rest on his shoulders. 

⟢⟡⟣

Park Eunyoung was a small woman, frail in a way from sustained use. She laid her holopad on their kitchen table with shaky hands, ignoring their Sim when she asked what was the matter. This wasn’t something to be emotional about, people died all the time. 

“She went peacefully,” her appa had said through his tears, the hiccups of his brothers and sister around him. “She lived a very good life.” His hologram flickered every few seconds, distorting the look of misery on his face. Holo communication between planets was still a work in progress, more like video messages as opposed to connected calls. It takes somewhere between five and ten minutes to send a transmission, meaning she was already late to the funeral.

Seungmin never allowed her to talk about it, but sometimes when no one was around Eunyoung would pull the memory out and smile at the discrepancy of it all: Her grandmother was _Russian,_ one of her uncles was _African,_ her Aunt, _ South American._ They were one big mishmash of cultures brought together by a small woman and her love and desire for family. Her grandmother couldn't give birth, so she'd adopted instead.

Eunyoung buried her face in her hands to try and hold back the tears. Her husband would never forgive her if she was anything other than perfect for their press conference later, but for just a moment, perhaps she could grieve--  
The automatic swish of the main door snapped her up, and she braced for a long second, holding her breath just in case. But it wasn’t--it wasn’t _him._ Her son, Jimin came bounding down the hallway, satchel slapping against his hip as he ran.

“Mom!” He grinned when he found her at the table. By then she’d had enough time to compose herself, scrubbing her face and smiling warmly as he ran up and threw his arms around her neck. It nearly broke her heart. “Yongbae invited me over tonight. Can I go?” 

“Of course, sweetheart.” She said thickly, holding him just a little bit longer to try and keep some of his warmth for herself. 

“Are you okay?” He asked when he pulled back, black bangs falling over his forehead. He was going to be short like her, and so so cute. 

“I’m fine,” She lied, putting on the smile she knew would fool anyone...anyone but him. Mainly because he sported that same smile himself. Jimin pursed his lips into a pout and squinted, eyes disappeared as he tried to make out whatever puzzle it was that she would hide from him. She couldn’t help but chuckle, giving in. The sadness always hurt less when her baby was around. “It’s just...your great grandmother died today.

“Oh,” Jimin breathed, as light as someone who didn’t understand the concept, “she was really old.” 

“Yah!” Eunyoung flicked him on the nose, “She was very wise.”

“I think you’re wise, momma!” He shot her a dashing grin, hugging her neck again. Before she could even begin to disagree, he detached and jogged towards his room. Ahh yes, staying at Yongbae’s. It would give her a small reprieve, one she could use to pray, she supposed. Before he got there though, Jimin turned back and cocked his head to the side. “I can’t remember her name, what was it?” The past tense hit Eunyoung squarely in the chest, but she swallowed down the hurt and masked it with a sad smile. 

“Jupiter. Jupiter Jones.”


	2. Stray

_ “He's seeing the actual Milky Way streaked across the sky. The whole of his entire galaxy, right there in front of him. Billions and billions of stars. Billions and billions of worlds. All of them, all of those seemingly endless possibilities, not fictional, but real, out there, existing, right now. There is so much more out there than just the planet he knows, so much more than his suburban mountaintop, so much more than even Halisca. Or Mars. Or hell, for that matter. _

_ So much more that he'll never see. So much more that he'll never get to. So much that he can only glimpse enough of to know that it's forever beyond his reach.” _

_ ― Patrick Ness, More Than This *amended _

⟢⟡⟣

He came to gradually, one sense at a time. First sensations; his toes and fingers and ears, the staunch yet warm feeling of arms under his back and knees, the bump and sway of someone picking him up and carrying him. Once he knew he was real, he opened his eyes to the smudge painting that was his surroundings; sight. Bright flashing lights hit him like punches to his corneas, but his arms refused to shield him when he tried to lift his hand.

Sound came last: the clench of mag-boots on metal, high static radios crackling with muffled voices, the swish of plastic against plastic, and his name…over and over again.

_ Park Jimin, Park Jimin, Park Jimin… _

The second time he woke up, he was in a hospital bed on indulgent white fiber sheets. The first thought was that this whole world was unbearably white; walls, pillows, window shades. And the second was the awareness of someone holding his hand. The fake feel of flesh behind microfiber was gone, and he could feel the warm caress on someone’s nose against his wrist. His mother. She was crying, tiny drip drops on the back of his palms, and she cried even harder when she saw he was awake. She was a small delicate thing, tinier than him which was a feat. But she was hastily pushed aside as the doctors rushed in to poke and prod him, ask him a hundred different questions. Over their crowding shoulders, Jimin caught sight another bed with no excitement at all.

_ Agust De. _

Marshals came after the doctors, two from his planet and one from Earth, telling Jimin that he had been found in the bottom of the H-3 mining shaft with Agust De, and that made zero sense. His parents and Agust’s parents stood on opposite sides of the room from each other, slow-cooked animosity refusing to allow them to be civil, even in this confusing situation. They hated each other, always had. There was no way to get past the stigmas they wore like crowns—Earth’s Ambassador and Mars’ Governor. Pitted into eternal rivalry, dragging their family along behind them. Agust and Jimin hated each other by association, so why had they been together? And why were they in a restricted zone?

Those were the questions the authorities were asking, but Jimin had no answers.

Sols later, the doctor pulled his mother outside, leaving the opaque door cracked just enough for him to hear.

“It’s Amnesia, somewhere between Localized and Retrograde.”

“No, no, that can’t be right. He’s just...he’s just confused.”

“We’ve run every test, ma’am. He’s not lying when he says he doesn’t know what happened.”

“Well, what can you do? What’s the treatment?”

“Sometimes memories come back on their own. After a trauma like this...I would advise giving him time to process. If he still doesn’t recall anything in a few months, we can discuss CBT.”

“A few months? Don’t you have a pill or a shot to fix him?”

“He’s not broken, ma’am. I’m sorry, but that’s not how this works.”

It felt like he was living in snapshots, just small snippets of conversations and instances. He didn’t feel human, didn’t feel real in his own skin. More than once a doctor or his mother would ask him something, but he’d completely miss it. Not because he was distracted or thinking about anything important, it was just like he…he whited out. Dull and dazed. They’d ask him again and he would apologize, but it would happen again ten minutes later. He was incapable of staying in the moment with them. What was worse is when they asked what he was thinking about, he couldn’t for the life of him recall.

⟢⟡⟣

Agust never woke up.

The Marshals said the two of them had been missing for almost three Martian months, nearly 180 sols. How did they survive? Where had they been? Did they leave Mars? Were they on Earth? Did they go together? Did someone take them? Why hasn’t Agust woken up? Will he ever wake up?

Jimin was at the front of the line of people who wanted to know the answers, but despite staring at the walls of his posh hospital room, the gentle heart monitor of Agust one bed away…there was nothing. His mind was a blank slate, and no one was more frustrated by it than him.

They couldn’t find anything physically or mentally wrong with him, although there was evidence of his adventure—a wide scar that discolored him from neck to knee on his left side. If he didn’t know any better, the doctor said, it looked like someone lit him on fire. Nothing a top of the line surgeon couldn’t fix, his mother assured him, even as her lips twisted, trying her best to try not to cry. But when she passed him the holo for his consent to treatment, he said no. The answers felt like they were on the tip of Jimin’s tongue; an explanation, a great story, green and orange liquid—

But then they would be gone, erased all over again. Like a virus that kept him from remembering and deleting it again when he did.

They released him a quarter month later, after running every conceivable test know to mankind. He was the son of the Governor, his family could afford that kind of investigation, but at some point, the doctors couldn’t justify keeping him any longer.

Their family quarters looked the same as he followed behind his mother dutifully, but the instant he stepped through the doors he knew that it wasn’t his home anymore. There was no warmth there, feeling as severe and antiseptic as the hospital had. His father, the Governor of Halisca, was waiting for them in the living room, seated on a low couch in a primly pressed suit. He hadn’t come to see Jimin in the ICU after they originally found him, God forbid how that would look to the press, let alone the Earth media.

The two of them didn’t speak for a long time, just stared at each other while his mother tried her best to fill the void, but that wasn’t unusual. He remembered the silence, the palpable tension. None of the hatred on his father’s face would ever be lost on Jimin.

It was an irreparable distance.

“Did you fuck him then?” His father asked at dinner over a plate of _ Beef Bourguignon_, making his mother inhale her wine and sputter. “In the middle of my mountain?”

“Who?” Was Jimin’s only question.

“Agust De!”

“Who?”

He slammed his fists on the table, making all the cutlery jump, “Jimin!”

But Jimin didn’t jump. Not because of the outburst or the accusation, but because maybe he _ had _ fucked someone in the restricted zone, Agust or otherwise, and he was much more focused on wondering why the hell he ever decided to come back.   
The dining room was pale blue, some new style his mother was keeping tabs on. Sims lined the walls, watched them eat with dead plastic eyes, and Jimin assumed that’s what he looked like. It was sure as hell what he felt like—artificial and bogus. Like he would melt instead of burn, in need of an upgrade, so easily disposable for the newest model.

Maybe that’s what happened.

He returned to school shortly after, against medical advice and his mother’s protests.

“If he wants to act like nothing happened, then we’ll act like nothing happened.” Was his father’s edict before leaving for Earth. He would be gone for a half month—30 sols—and it would be a nice reprieve from the tremendous silence that blanketed their dwelling. In his absence, his mother tended to do the things she knew he hated, her own little retribution for having to live with a monster like him.

She would fill the flat with plants she’d buy from the greenhouse down on the surface and make a one-woman show of watering them, flitting about like a bumblebee while Jimin dropped a stack of holos onto the kitchen table. He’d missed a lot at university, predictably, but they had prepared for him. No one wanted to be liable for keeping back the son of the Governor. They’d prepared for Agust too, but…

Agust never woke up.

⟢⟡⟣

_"Ooohhh Jimin~!” _ A sing-song voice called from the door of their lecture hall. Jimin was sitting in the front row staring at his physics holo when he looked up and saw Yongbae carefully step in, a gaggle of other classmates behind him and a frosted birthday cake in his hands. Somebody turned out the lights and lit the candles, casting a warm glow on the otherwise staunch room. “Happy Birthday!” They all shouted, smiling from ear to ear. Some were forced, but most were genuine. A little stunned, Jimin tried to tell them it wasn’t his birthday but his friend waved away his protest,

“You weren’t here for your birthday, and since we missed it, we decided to have a do-over!”

“Awww, Tae—!” Jimin’s eyes lit up as the name slipped past his lips. Nobody moved for a second while they looked between each other but quickly recovered. He figured out early on that they’d been coached on how to approach him like he was a frightened pet needing to be coaxed back to civilization. For the most part, he didn’t mind, it meant they gave him his space, but the falseness of it all was starting to become too obvious.

_ “Bae, its Bae__,_ squishy face!” His friend slid the cake onto the desk and then proceeded to mash Jimin’s face together, squealing about mochi cheeks, and demanding they all sing.

“Right,” Jimin laughed weakly as the whole chorus began, out of tune but earnest, _“___Y_ongbae_.” But no matter how he tried, Jimin couldn’t get the image of a purple-haired boy out of his head for the rest of the day.

⟢⟡⟣

His betrothed came to see him at one point, as poised and perfect as ever. At ten years old, Jimin had been told that he would marry Reem al Faisal, the daughter of a wealthy Phobosian family for political alliance, or something along those lines. They met the first time when he was twelve and she was ten and despite the fact that they were both children, had signed a lengthy document with their unschooled signatures. From then on, Reem was supposed to be his best friend. His parents pushed her on him in every aspect, _ ‘have you talked to Reem today?’, ‘her birthday is soon, what are you going to get her?’, ‘do you think Reem would like what you’re wearing today?’ _ And because of that, they grew up in each other’s space. At first she was shy and constantly worried about his perception of her, but over the years the fear lessened and he was finally able to meet her; still shy, but generally blasé with most things, she was laid back when no one was looking. 

It wasn’t lost on Jimin that she was beautiful either; dark skin with wide brown eyes and a waterfall of sleek black hair. Even with his best efforts, she did eventually become, not necessarily his best friend, but his best confidant. He told her things that he never had the guts to tell anyone else because he knew she would never rat him out (they were supposed to be husband and wife, after all, they had to build some sort of trust).

Everything about her was still impeccable, but Jimin could see something remarkably different the instant he laid eyes on her. Where she had once been gaunt and couture, her cheeks looked rosy and her curves were round. She looked so healthy and bright that he almost missed the look of utter despair on her face at first glance. It clicked by the time he hit the dining room entrance: with Jimin gone, the marriage had been canceled and Reem had been free to live her life however she wanted. With Jimin back, they were once again locked into servitude.

And she would probably hate him for it for the rest of their lives.

They shared a casually chaperoned brunch, waited on hand and foot by sims Jimin had never seen before, and his fiancé refused to look him in the eye, not even once. The ice blue and silver of her saree glinted at him, with more malice than anything else, making the whole room feel frigid.

“So will you tell me?” She asked quietly, the rare moment when they were alone.

“Tell you what?” He asked.

“How it was…to be away.” The longing in the words cut him clean in half and he slumped in his chair.

“I wish I could remember.”

“You really truly can’t?” She seemed skeptical, and her doubt coupled with everyone else’s weighed heavy on his head.

“Really.”

“Then it was all for nothing.”

They didn’t speak for the rest of the afternoon and she left with barely a goodbye. She was mad, and so was he.

⟢⟡⟣

Never in his life (_or at least the part of his life he could remember_) had Jimin skipped his uni classes. It was too precarious, too easy for his father to find out and punishment like that was something he avoided like the plague. But Jimin had too many questions, and no one to answer them…except for one person. So he found his way back to the hospital, back to the room where he’d woken up for the first time in his life it felt like.

Agust never woke up.

Jimin’s arch-nemesis was only a little bigger than him by build, but the clunky hospital beds had dwarfed the both of them. His family had moved him in, switching out gowns for sweats and medical sheets for soft blankets. Only the best for the Earth Ambassador's son.

It felt odd being in there with him again, but Jimin pushed himself through the door, taking the seat that was shoved up next to the bed. Agust had pale skin that sharply contrasted with his black hair. And while it looked good, it just wasn’t quite..._right _.

Jimin had very few memories of the boy from before the_‘giant gaping hole’ _ in his brain, but for some reason, he could see him as a slate grey. Could see him studying at a desk, listening to music, humming to himself. He wondered when he got to know the son of his father’s enemy so well he felt he knew his favorite song.

Maybe they really _ had _ fucked in the shafts?

“Oh! Jimin.” Came an exclamation, and he turned to see Mrs. De stroll in her pristine high heels and perfectly pressed skirt. In her hands, she carried a glass vase of holo lilies that she quickly went to set on the other side of the room. She stayed facing away from him for a moment, and he watched the way her shoulders rose and fell, calming breaths that made him feel guilty.

“What are you doing here?” She asked pleasantly as she turned, smoothing her hands down the front of her skirt now that they were free, and he saw them fidget. She didn’t know what to do with herself now, and he figured she probably didn’t want him here.

“I thought maybe…seeing him would help me remember.” Jimin admitted, although looking at Agust now, he could clearly see this wasn’t going to be the case. He’d spent weeks staring at this ashen face, and it never helped before. He wasn’t sure what made him think it would now. The solidarity maybe? Agust was the only one who knew what Jimin had gone through, no one else understood, no one else could give him the answers he wanted. Everybody else just shied away from him and refused to even utter the words ‘_kidnapped’ _ or ‘_runaway’ _ in his presence.

Mrs. De visibly deflated, clicking over to pull an extra chair to the other side of the bed. Even though she looked immaculate as always, he could see little chinks in the armor she wore; her black hair was perfect, but with the amount of hairspray in it, it had probably been perfect for sols; her lipstick was a bright blood red and distracted from the hollowness of her cheeks; the purple bags under her eyes were smeared over with too many layers of concealer. She was picture perfect ready to mourn her baby.

“You and my son were never friends, were you?” She asked quietly when the silence had stretched on too long.

“No, we weren’t,” Jimin answered honestly. He hadn’t meant to sound so defeated by it either.

“Too much like your fathers in that regard.” She huffed, never taking her eyes off her son.

“We weren’t friends but…the last thing I remember is his face,” Jimin whispered and she perked up. It was a memory he’d told nearly everyone already, but he was hoping it would help her, at least a little. “We were at a party in the old maintenance tunnels under H-3. I’d had a fight with my parents that night and was upset. And even though I can’t understand why, Agust stayed by me, making sure I didn’t get too wasted or…or hurt myself.”

She carefully reached forward and took Agust’s limp hand, smoothing her fingers over his pale skin. “I know, as a mother, I’m supposed to think the world of my children but…that doesn’t sound like my son.” Her voice wavered and Jimin dipped his head in respect. “He was mean spirited…bitter, like his father. But there was nothing I could do.” He refused to look at her tears because he knew she wouldn’t want him to see them.

“I’m sure you did your best.” Was all he managed to offer. Unfortunately, the Agust she described was the same as the one he grew up with. No one could tell him why that night was so different, why that night changed everything. “I guess I better go.” He stood to leave, not wanting to interrupt if she wanted the little time she had left alone, but she called to him at the door.

“Come back—I mean…you _ can _ come back whenever you need to, Jimin.”

“Thank you, Mrs. De.”

⟢⟡⟣

“Hey, whatever happened to that guy?” Jongin chimed one afternoon during lunch. The four of them were sitting out on the quad at MaHU on the grass soaking up as much of the sun as they could. The campus was sprawling, taking up a large portion of Halisca’s topside area, sporting six buildings, a promenade, and a young forest planted by the original ISS team. Topsides had been cultivated for nature and were as close to the outside as you could get in dome life. The landscape sloped up dramatically as _ Olympus Mons _ started to ascend, showing off an impressive lake, and across it, the city center with the _Shelves_ in the middle.

“What guy?” Yongbae asked.

“You know, that guy from Deimos. The one hanging out with Agust the night they—” Yongbae punched him in the shoulder to keep him from saying it out loud and then shot Jimin an apologetic grin.

“I don’t remember a guy,” Won Shik said as he ate.

“Me neither.” Yongbae shrugged.

“No, I swear there was.” Jongin went so far as to stop eating to make his point. “Kid had purple hair, it was rad.

“Purple?” Jimin asked and Yongbae’s eyebrows shot up. He didn’t contribute to conversations a lot these sols, which made his friends worry, but…it was hard to find things to say.

“Yeah, this muteish purple grey. You could rock it.” Jongin grinned and went back to his lunch, forgetting his original train of thought, but Jimin was more focused on the first solid (_read: tentative_) piece of evidence he’d had since he woke up.

_ Purple…purple meant something. _

He packed up his lunch in a hurry, throwing an apology over his shoulder as he ran for the student office. The lady behind the counter jolted when he rounded the corner at a near sprint and he had to catch his breath before asking for security footage.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. The police confiscated all of that after you…” She trailed off and didn’t finish, thinking saying it out loud would upset him somehow. He quickly bowed and ran out, searching on his comm for the closest police presence. No one even tried to stop him as he ran off campus like the whole mountain held its breath when he was around and only relaxed when he was gone.  
The closest post just so happened to be in the _ Shelves _ at the base of Olympus Mons. Each and every floor of the fifty story building had a balcony that was covered in plant life, hence the nickname. The whole structure itself looked like a vertical forest, and housed anything and everything. It was where the Governor’s office was, where Reem stayed while she was on planet, administrative offices and records galore. Anything and everything. It meant his father would undoubtedly hear about this visit, but he didn’t care.

The girl behind the desk did a double-take when he jogged up and sputtered when he asked to see the security footage from MaHU on the day of his disappearance. Why was that such a cuss word now? She grabbed the phone and called her Captain before he could even finish.

The Captain was much less flustered, and she looked him over with a critical eye from across her desk. '_Captain Moon Byul Yi’ _ was printed on the nameplate in big neon letters. She had a thin face with prurient eyes, and she was not above cussing at him like everyone else refused to.

“So you’re Park Jimin.” She made an expression as if to say _ ‘not bad’_, and he just nodded. “Why do you want to see the tapes?” She leaned forward across the desk, stippling her long fingers, and it made him want to lean back, as far away from her as possible.

He hesitated in answering, not wanting to foster the hope that he’d found something or the delusion that he’d found what the police had missed. But there was something in the bottom of his stomach that was telling him _ not _to tell her why.

“I’m hoping it helps me remember.” He fed her a half-truth and she chewed on it a lot longer than necessary. She looked like she didn’t believe him but eventually agreed, leaving for a moment before coming back with a holo that she slid into a nondescript slot in her computer.

“What do you want to see?” She asked, coming around to sit beside him like they were about to watch a movie together. He swallowed hard at how close she was, but pushed through, determined.

“Just start at the beginning.”

It was weird, watching the Jimin from three Martian months ago go about his morning. He could recall it all so clearly like it was the day before yesterday and not nearly a year ago.

“Come on Sparkly boy!” Yongbae had hollered as he pulled Jongin through the accesses of the courtyard, Jimin following behind with a grin. “We have more important things to discuss than whether or not you believe in aliens!”

“Oh yeah?” Jongin snickered, “Like what?” He’d been telling them an interesting theory on shapeshifters he got from a comic book published on Earth.

“Like Jimin’s bachelor party!” Yongbae announced. Jimin had stiffened, and even though he knew his best friend was kidding, was trying to make light of a huge deal…he still felt like he was going to faint at the very mention of it.

Jongin pulled out of Yongbae’s hold and reached back for Jimin, his face easy and sympathetic. “Come on, Min.” He was so soft when he wanted to be, so had Jimin relaxed, letting his friends tug him inside. 

The cameras switched from the courtyard to the hallways of the university where he watched himself and his best friends make their way to their lecture hall. It switched again to the angle at the back of the room where half the desks were filled with his classmates, the usual assortment of boys and girls he’d grown up with and known his whole life (nothing ever really changed on Mars). Jimin’s desk on the far right, fourth back, while Agust’s the second from the right, first chair. 

Jimin remembered clearly how weird that morning had been because the moment he stepped into the room, Agust looked up and greeted him. Everyone knew who he was, Park Jimin, Governor’s son. Because of all of that and more, there were certain people Jimin didn’t associate with. Namely _ Agust De,_ the Earth Ambassador’s son. But there he sat, the first seat of the second row, black hair ruffled limply over droopy eyes like he’d just woken up, gummy cheek propped up against long fingers, lounging at his desk without a care in the world, and he had looked straight at Jimin.  
The two of them had a mutual dislike for one another, and in the interest of peace, had come to an understanding: they never spoke, looked, or even breathed in the other’s direction. It all stemmed from their fathers, they brought the hatred home and their son’s had adopted it. Yet here was Agust, smirking like he’d been waiting for Jimin all morning.  
  
“Hey, what’s up?” He mumbled sleepily when Jimin passed and it was more words than they’d said to each other all year.  
“’the hell?” Jimin cocked an eyebrow at the boy, completely thrown by the 180. Just the sol before he’d pretended Jimin didn’t exist. Was this a prelude to war? Was Agust Dee terminally ill? Had he been body-snatched by one of Jongin’s shape-shifting aliens?

And there it was, in visual: his freeze and confusion caught on camera. But in the chair behind Agust that was usually unoccupied, sat a boy Jimin was sure he didn’t remember being there. But just like Jongin had said, there was the purple hair. 

“Introduce meeeee~” The new boy swatted at Agust’s shoulder like an angry kitten. They didn’t get new people on Mars, not ever, yet Agust didn’t seem surprised or even annoyed by him, which was weird since Agust De had not been blessed with things like patience or tolerance.

“This is Jimin,” He said it so carelessly Jimin thought maybe he had been having a stroke, “This is Taehyung.” Agust gestured and Jimin followed his hand to the purple. Taehyung was pretty, a luxurious type of pretty that you rarely saw outside of a holovid, with a boxy smile and heart-shaped face. His hair was dyed a deep royal purple that hung loosely over his forehead and matched the intensity of the dark eyes he was using to peer at Jimin. “Jimin is the Governor’s son,” Agust added, and there was something under that sentence that had snapped Jimin out of his daze. He was used to Agust’s attitude and the way he told his friend who Jimin was sounded like he had been indicating him for something, drawing a target on his back.

“Yeah, and Agust is the Earth Ambassador’s son.” Jimin scoffed because that’s how he thought the conversation was going to go. “_Whooptee-do _ .”  
Taehyung had only cocked his head at the two boys, grinning all the while like it was some sort of game show. The color of his eyes seemed unusual in that Jimin couldn’t really decide what they were. A little too dark to be natural, and there was the telltale edge around his iris that indicated contacts.  
“It’s nice to meet you, Jiminie!” Taehyung beamed, causing Jimin to choke on the nickname. Before he could say anything in protest though, Mr. Cavaco called the class to order and he was forced to take his seat, shooting looks back at the pair like maybe they weren’t real.

Jimin had to grip the chair he was sitting in to keep from pitching forward towards the screen. Captain Moon jammed her finger on the fast forward icon and he nearly jumped out of his skin, having forgotten she was even there. The screen stopped at the quad an hour later where Jimin and his friends were descending to meet Agust and the boy. It made him question how his friends could forget this guy completely when they’d eaten lunch together. Why was it that Jongin was the only one? 

“Earth to Park Jimin!” Yongbae kicked his desk and he jolted. “Let’s go, I’m starving!” The class was over, he’d spaced through the whole thing, but that wasn’t unusual.

“Where do you want to eat?” He asked as he quickly grabbed his stuff and followed his friends back out to the quad.

“Well…” Jongin shot him a sheepish grin, and Jimin knew instantly that he shouldn’t have zoned out, that they’d gone and done something stupid while he was under.

“That kid wanted to know where the best noodle place was…”

“What kid?” Jimin asked, but he already knew.

“The purple-haired kid with De.”

“So we’re going to lunch…with Agust De.” Jimin kinda wanted to throw himself into the aperture, or maybe throw Jongin instead.

“It’s not so bad, Min. He even said hi this morning!” Yongbae grinned._‘De vs Park’ _ was a well-known feud, so Jimin was sure his friends thought this was funny. His friends thought everything about Jimin’s long term suffering was funny.

“This feels like a set-up.” He grumbled but followed them to the rim of the aperture where several lifts could take them down below. The best noodles on Mars were at _ Gia Gai _ on the 84th level. H-11 was the newest aperture in Halisca, having only 100 levels, so the food stall was deep into the territory where Jimin and his friends weren’t necessarily welcome, but it was worth it. The _ Bún riêu _ was bomb.

Stepping off the lift to the balcony of level 84, they were greeted by Agust and Taehyung who wore matching smirks like they knew something Jimin didn’t, and he spiraled even more into a bad mood.

“Hey, Jimine!” Taehyung beamed and skipped forward to grab his hand. “How was your nap?” He chuckled when Jimin braced at the contact. All in all, he would say that he was a touchy person; he enjoyed giving hugs and putting his friends in headlocks, but hand-holding...he only ever held Reem’s hand and it was usually very uncomfortable. Taehyung’s grip, however, was warm and not the clammy mess Jimin usually associated with.

It took him a long moment to snap back to his senses, pulling away quickly. Holding hands with boys was not something he was allowed to do, not ever. He tried to twist his mouth into a frown and say something patronizing about how they didn’t know each other, but when he looked up, Taehyung was gazing back at him severely, kinda like he’d picked up on the vibe Jimin was trying really hard to suppress.

“Come on guys,” Jongin jumped forward, always thinking with his stomach (or imagination), “_Gia Gai _ is just past the decontamination chamber!”

“That sounds really bad, but we promise it’s the best.” Yongbae soft-pedaled his friend’s poor description, gesturing for Agust and Taehyung to follow them around the ambit. Jimin brought up the rear of their little party, mainly because he didn’t want his rival at his back, but also because he wanted to watch the new guy. He was cautious _ (read: curious). _ Living his life in his father’s shadow was hard enough as it was, he had every right to try and make it easier, and if that meant keeping an eye on anything that could compromise him, he would.

The old woman at the food stall was kind as always, giving Jimin an extra sprig of cilantro, and he hoped that it was because she liked him and not because of who he was. The five of them took up the five little stools in front of the counter--Yongbae, Agust, Taehyung, Jimin, Jongin.

Taehyung inhaled his noodles like a man who had never tasted food before, and the moans he made were borderline pornographic, causing the auntie to shoot them disapproving looks from behind the board. Jimin couldn’t help but laugh with the rest of them, even Agust, and somehow it didn’t feel as much like a concession as he thought it would. The conversation was surprisingly easy between them, so long as no one (_meaning Jongin, let’s be honest_) brought up anything sensitive, and they returned Topside together, wanting to soak up the artificial sun before going back to class. Taehyung had ordered another bowl of soup to bring with him, and Jimin marveled at how much the guy actually managed to pack away.

“So you’re from Deimos, right?” He blurted without meaning to. They were sitting on and around the picnic table on the quad, and Taehyung looked up at him with big bright eyes, struggling to swallow so he could answer.

“Sure!” He grinned big and boxy, and even though that wasn’t really an answer, it was unnervingly disarming.

“Do they not have food there or something?” Yongbae joked but just Taehyung laughed, a noodle hanging out of his mouth.

“None this good!”

From the ground, Jongin let out a squeal like a small child and jumped to his feet, startling everyone.

“Boys!” He shouted, waving his personal comm around. Yongbae asked what he was getting all excited for, and Jongin squealed again. “There’s a party tonight in the H-3 construction tunnels! Can we go? Please! Let’s go!” He threw himself at Yongbae’s feet and groveled like anyone would be able to stop him. Bae shoved him off with a foot before glancing at Jimin.

“I’m down, got nothing else going on tonight. You?”

“Oh! I wanna go!” Taehyung jumped up, and Jimin swore he saw Agust roll his eyes.

“How ‘bout it, Min? Please, please?” Jongin crawled over and grabbed one of his ankles. Jongin, despite being a pain in the ass and head most of the time, was a proverbial sweetheart, and Jimin usually had difficulty denying him anything, but he had plans tonight. Plans he really did not want to attend, but that he couldn’t cancel for fear of death (exaggeration--maybe, maybe not).

“You guys go,” Jimin poked Jongin in the chest with his toe, “I’ll go some other time.”

“Awww,” Taehyung whined, falling to the ground beside Jongin to latch on to Jimin’s other ankle, “Why not Jiminie!”

“Probably date night.” Yongbae casually reached over and stole the rest of Taehyung’s noodles. Jimin bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything, mainly in fear of what he would say. Yongbae had long since lost any fire to fight about Jimin’s predicament, because what could he possibly say when Jimin himself was resigned to his fate?

“Date night?” Taehyung asked innocently, and Jimin internally groaned. He hated having to explain this.

“I have…a…fiancé.”

“A fiancé? Jiminie, you’re so young!” Taehyung shook his ankle with vigor, and it would have been funny if the topic had been different. Yongbae and Jongin kept quiet, even Agust who undoubtedly knew about the agreement didn’t say anything. “You should live a little more before settling down!”

“I don’t exactly…have a choice in the matter.” He sighed, and understanding flashed across Taehyung’s face.

“An arranged marriage? Really? In this day and age?” Taehyung dropped his ankle like it burned him.

“Reem’s not so bad. She’s a good friend.” Jimin shrugged, but Taehyung wasn’t having it. He gazed up at Jimin incredulously, like he was personally offended that Jimin was okay with it. He was far from okay with it, but who was this stranger to care?

“It’s not right!” He lamented, and Jimin slumped. “You should be able to marry whoever you want—Love whoever you want! This kinda stuff—”

“Tae.” Agust’s deep slur cut him off just when Jimin wanted to kick the purple-haired boy in the head. “That’s enough.”

Did he really think that Jimin didn’t know how messed up with was already? His fire made Jimin equal parts mad and endeared, and then all he could be was surprised because Agust was the one who shut him up. Taehyung was his friend, so it was understandable, but if this were any other day, Jimin assumed the Earthling would have loved to see him writhe. Jimin gave him a hard look, searching for some sign that this was a trick, a long con, but Agust’s features were respectfully blank as he stared back.

If Jimin and Reem grew up in the same space, he and Agust had grown up in the opposite. They knew all about each other before they ever actually met, and by then it was too late for them to actually like the other. Whenever Jimin was coming, Agust was always going, dogging the heels of their fathers, and it was only later on in life that they started to glare as they went. Jimin couldn’t even remember what he hated about the guy, just that he did. He really really did.

A speaker in the quad crackled to life, signaling all the students to return to class, breaking whatever moment they were having.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Jimin mumbled and quickly grabbed his stuff to head back first.

The screen went blank and Jimin audibly gulped. 

“Well was it everything you hoped for?” The Captain slumped back in her chair on the other side of the desk, ejecting the disc and tossing it in a drawer. Jimin wanted that disc, wanted to watch all of it over again, a hundred times, a thousand until he could remember every single purple hair on Tae’s head.

“I was hoping for answers.” He said quietly instead, and she huffed. 

“Let me guess: now you just have more questions?” 

“Infinitely more.”

⟢⟡⟣

Jimin had always been smart, but the rate at which he caught up academically amazed even his teachers. In a quarter month, he absorbed three Martian months’ worth of material, focusing interestingly enough, on mechanics. A class he’d despised going to before suddenly became his favorite outlet. He’d never read a manual but for some reason, he knew exactly where the Wasserstoffperoxydtank was and how it fit into the turbopump. He managed to rig an external disc shield better than even his instructor and when no one was looking he fiddled with an igniter, taking it apart and putting it back together again. His friends were bewildered but supportive, Won Shik going so far as to invite Jimin down to his dad’s shipyard. It was the family’s by name only, seeing as his father owned the corporation and hadn’t touched a ship in years. But Jimin agreed nonetheless because the yard was adjacent to H-9, and a change of scenery sounded nice.

His mother tried to say no, that she couldn’t stand the thought of him leaving the mountain, but for the first time ever, his father was on his side, spouting something about character building and networking. Jimin didn’t say anything about how he was going to try and stuff himself in a maintenance shaft as soon as he got there and not talk to anybody, but he took the win when he could get it.

Turns out Won Shik’s idea for the field trip didn't actually involved any mechanics at all and Jimin was deeply disappointed, but he still smashed his face against a port window when they breached the dome on the top of _ Olympus Mons _ to shuttle down to the surface.

“So there’s this sweet ass underground club,” Won Shik started, leaning slyly towards his friends so the pilot couldn’t hear, “and since it’s an Aperture, there are no age limits on anything.”

“How did you even hear about it?” Jongin asked.

“From the Dragon.”

“Since when are you friends with the Finance Minister’s son?” Yongbae snorted, elbowing Jimin to join him.

“I don’t know…since—” Won Shik was cut off by a swift smack to the back of the head. Jimin glanced back as Yongbae grumbled, Jimin understood. 

Since he had disappeared.

The shuttle glided into a small airlock around the base of the dome and waited for it to pressurize before flying into H-9 itself. It wasn’t the newest chasm but it certainly wasn’t the oldest, sporting at least 300 tiers that spiraled down towards the core of their planet. Mars has a weak magnetic field and is that much further away from the sun, meaning Martians can live further under the crust than Earthlings can. H-1, the oldest aperture was so deep, there were rumors that they dug all the way through the planet itself. 

Their shuttle kicked on its thrusters to descend, and they kept going and going until Jimin couldn’t see the dome through the port window. 

“This is just creepy as hell.” Jongin shuddered. Won Shik snorted loudly,

“Someone missing their mountain top chalet already?”

“Shut up!” 

They docked on level 287 on a small platform beaming with floor lights. A man who worked for Won Shik’s father met them there and directed them further down into the city under the guise of showing the boss’ son around. The aperture looked like it was built out of copper even though it was just Martian soil, the walls, and levels a rusty brown color. It wasn’t crowded, and after only a few minutes of walking, their guide politely excused himself at the beginning of what looked like a Red Light District.

Jimin, not really understanding why, found that he was comfortable enough here. He didn’t mind the wayward looks from the people who passed and they didn’t mind his friends gawking. Yongbae, on the other hand, was trying so hard to fit in that he was making a fool of himself.

“Yo!” He nearly shouted at one man, “Which way to the Helix?” Jimin and Jongin had to bow apologetically, grabbing him and rushing him away. The fact that it was an underground club meant there were no signs or anything, and Won Shik hadn’t exactly come ready with directions, so reluctantly, Jimin was appointed to approach a woman lounging outside a bar, smoking a blue cigarette.

She wore neon pink fishnets under a short black skirt and a ripped t-shirt that wasn’t exactly modest. But the whole ensemble matched the long rose gold of her hair and startlingly pink eyes. She was a punk rock Morganite and Jimin could appreciate the aesthetic.

“Hey,” He offered an innocent smile while his boys snickered behind him. She eyed him and then his gaggle of friends and rolled her eyes.

“_What _?”

“Just trying to find a club, the Helix. You heard of it?” He placated, and she gave him another up-down before flicking her cig. The glow at the tip was artificial, and he could smell the sweet scent of cotton candy instead of tobacco.

“I heard of it. How you plan on getting in there?”

“Honestly, I’m just along for the ride. If they turn us away at the door, I’ll be relieved.” He gave her a sheepish grin and it wasn’t long before she was returning it.

“That’s the kinda place you gotta be somebody to get in. Are you somebody?” She bit her bottom lip and reached forward to trace the line of Jimin’s shirt with a painted fingernail.

“Probably not.” 

She blinked, a little surprised. Yongbae chuckled behind him, obviously not hearing his attempts to avoid the club while the girl took one step closer, her face suddenly serious.

“I wouldn’t go then if I were you, babe. If it ain’t your scene, it ain’t your scene. But don’t go with people looking to start trouble. This isn’t your mountain. No daddy’s to save you here except the ones you don’t want.” He balked at her brutal honesty. She meant every single word, a disgruntled sort of knowledge that he hadn’t heard since…since…

“They’re not looking for trouble, they’re just stupid.” He blurted, and that seemed to let her down.

“Stupid is always trouble, Twinkle.” She murmured before turning and gesturing for them to follow.

Jimin feet rooted in place as the nickname washed over him like a balm for the burn he didn’t know how he got. It dazed and excited him, but it was all cut short when Yongbae slung an arm around his neck and pulled him along behind the girl.

“Nice going, man!”

Her name was Solar, and she only looked at Jimin when she spoke, clearly because she thought his friends were idiots, but she dutifully led the four of them to a half-hidden lift that spiraled down deep in the bowels of H-9 anyway. Halfway down they started to feel the vibration of a thousand bass drums thumping to dark step, and Jongin legitimately squealed. When the doors of the lift dinged open, a huge bouncer blocked their path, arms crossed, shades on even though it barely light enough to see. He looked over their group and then turned to Solar with an obvious scowl.

“You brought me climbers?” He asked and his voice sounded like thunder.

“Three climbers and a star.” She threw Jimin a wink over her shoulder, and the boys shoved him playfully.

“Too bad he’s a married man!” Jongin snorted and Yongbae punched him again.

After a moment more of scrutiny, the bouncer stepped aside revealing a door. Pure sound nearly blasted them off their feet when he opened it. Won Shik pushed them all forward from the back until they were meshing into the back of a giant round room packed with bodies. The music was so loud that Jimin had to cover his ears, and it was so dark despite the fact that LED spotlights whizzed overhead. Definitely didn’t help that he was shorter than everyone else either.

The DJ booth stacked in the middle of the room atop a full-bodied column of sunset light and Jimin realized they were at the very bottom of the aperture. A full bar stretched around the opposite wall and Yongbae grabbed Jimin’s wrist to start pulling him through the crowd. He looked back once for Solar, but she was gone and the door to freedom was hidden by bodies.

“L--’s -o!” Jongin yelled, but Jimin could only catch every other syllable, his focus zeroing in on the hand holding his wrist.

A lifetime, it felt like a lifetime ago, but he remembered with startling clarity someone doing this exact same thing to him before. He got caught on dancing shoulders and wandering elbows, but the hand is what he fixated on, a guiding tether that he was unexpectedly so scared would let go. He tripped over someone’s prancing feet and yelled before he could think,

“Tae!”

Yongbae quickly righted him with the hand on his wrist and pulled him close.

“You good?” He yelled right into Jimin’s ear.

No, no he was not good. He felt nauseous and in his periphery, he swore he saw feathers and scales. And the smell! The overwhelming smell of deep-fried—

“You’ll feel better once we get a drink in you!” Yongbae pulled forward again, but as he moved away Jimin caught a flash of purple through the stream of a neon spotlight.

He wrenched his arm from his best friend’s grasp without thinking and threw himself into the crowd towards the purple head. Answers! It was all the answers he’d been searching for wrapped up in one person. Everything would finally make sense if he could just get to him, get to—

“Taehyung!” He grabbed the guy’s arm and spun him around, but immediately knew it wasn’t right. The face was wrong, the eyes were wrong, the mouth set wrong, and now that he had ahold of him, he saw that the guy’s hair wasn’t purple at all.

“What the hell?” He hissed and Jimin quickly apologized, a little dizzy and a lot frustrated. Yongbae was on him again in a second, reaching for him but Jimin couldn’t stand for anyone else’s skin on him and he flinched back. He would seriously throw up if Yongbae touched him right now.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong? Who was that?” He machine-gunned questions as loud as he could over the music, but Jimin looked right through him. The startling neons were bleeding together and the floor felt like it was pulsing under his feet. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel his hands, recognizing it too late to stop it: panic. Yoongi would have known what to do, would have seen the signs before he could fall to his knees and bawl like a child.

_ Who the hell was Yoongi? _

Suddenly, a set of long arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him through the crowd. It wasn’t Yongbae, or Jongin or Won Shik. The touch was as slight as it was secure, and cool…so cool against his flushed skin.

“Deep breaths, kid.” A female voice whispered into his ear, and despite the raging chemicals in his blood, he was able to inhale as she carried him through a side door.

By the time he was coherent enough to give a shit, Solar had him curled up on a skinny cot in what looked to be her quarters. The room was small, eight by twelve, barely fitting a bed and a desk. Posters were tacked on every available wall space, depicting bands, conventions, movies, celebrities, scenery, and artistic quotes. Everything shared a shade of pink, and Jimin marveled at the collection until he realized that it wasn’t actually carefully curated, it was the lights; Solar had painted the lights rose.

“That was some meltdown.” She smiled while she ripped open beverage powder and poured it haphazardly into two clean enough mugs. She hadn’t even turned around to see that there was clarity in his eyes, yet somehow she knew he was back.

“Fuck,” he hissed when he sat up to take the mug she offered. In it was a dark brown liquid that he sniffed at uncertainly first.

“It’s hot chocolate, although it’s not really hot. More like lukewarm cocoa powder.” She took a sip of her own, sitting at the desk opposite him.

“Thanks,” He managed not to cringe when he tasted the stale drink. “I haven’t had hot chocolate in...” He trailed off, unable to remember exactly when the last time was. It used to be in middle school, sneaking up to the quad to map out the stars that shone through the H-11 dome. He and Yongbae would lie in the grass for hours until his mother sent a guard down to find them. He took a sip, and it definitely didn’t taste as good without the stars, but...a warm sense of nostalgia filled his veins, chasing off the last dredged of the hysteria from earlier.

“Mmmm,” Solar purred as she took a drink of her own. “You feel nice.” 

Jimin choked on his chocolate, used the edge of the blanket she’d draped over his shoulders to wipe a dribble off his chin, and checked himself over, trying to find exactly where she was touching him to be able to know. 

But she wasn’t touching him. She was across the room on her little stool looking smug over her cup. “I’m honestly really surprised, but at the same time not at all. I mean, Amethyst is no pushover, but he’s such a softy I can’t even…” She rambled on and Jimin very carefully put his drink aside...just in case.

“Ummm, so I’m gonna go.” He stood slowly, pushing away the blanket, “Thanks for, for getting me out of there, and...I’ll buy you a drink next time I’m down here--”

“You rode with Tae--that much was obvious from the start.” Jimin froze at the mention of the name he’d been chasing after. “The block in your mind is seriously impressive, but there’s so many loose ends, I’m starting to wonder if he wasn’t hoping…” She trailed off right when he was desperately hoping for her to continue.

“Y-You know Taehyung?” 

He told himself not to hope, that the Captain had already given him a perfectly reasonable explanation for why the purple-haired boy had popped in and out of his life. An exchange student, a nobody from a small moon who went back as soon as he went missing.

“The real question,” Solar said as she set her drink back on the table, “is do you know Taehyung?” 

He slumped back onto the bed, defeated.

“I don’t know.” 

“Jimin,” Solar got up and he felt her sit beside him on the cot, the comforting chill of her skin welcome, “I’m going to tell you a story and I need you to listen carefully.” But a thought occurred to him that cut through his exhaustion.

“When did I tell you my name?” They stared at each other for a long minute before she completely ignored his question.

“Once upon a time, in an era before this solar system was born, on a planet being consumed by the heart of a dying star, a race of beings came into existence.” He blinked at her slowly,

“_Ahuh… _”

“They were called Celestials, and even though they looked like other beings, they were blessed with a great gift--the ability to interpret energy. People sometimes refer to them as _ ‘Gems’ _, like they were forged in that Pulsar, and in a way, I guess they were. Collectively the Celestials were able to save their planet from annihilation by absorbing the energy from the core of the star. You still with me?” She nudged him when it looked like he was dozing off.

He stifled a yawn. “I think so?” Her presence was just very soothing, and after the hurricane of his panic, her calm voice could easily lull him right to sleep.

“At first they were sought after for their ability, an entire race of living batteries. But Celestials were not interested in anyone else’s wars and began to refuse calls for aid. It gave the rest of the universe the excuse they needed to declare war on them instead. The conflict was devastating, and in the end, only twelve Celestials survived, fleeing from the planet where they were born and scattering across the stars. We’re apparently what influenced your Human Zodiac!”

“We?” He pointed out her slip and she shot him a disgruntled look.

“I meant_‘they’_. Anyway, over the millennia, the Celestials ability started to distinguish itself, becoming different for each of the twelve that remained. They stuck with the moniker '_Gems’_, and referred to each other by precious stones.”

“Ahuh, and which one are you?” He teased, she shot him a dirty look.

“As of right now, in this very moment, Pearl is the strongest of the Gems, but only because Amethyst has suffered a great loss.” Jimin found himself leaning against her shoulder and she let him, looping her arm around his waist so he would be comfortable.

“What happened?” 

It was an interesting enough story, and although he didn’t see the point of it, he would happily indulge her if it meant he didn’t have to leave the tiny room and go back to the club. Distantly he wondered if his friends were freaking out or if they even noticed he was gone? They’d certainly replaced him easily enough…

“I’m not entirely sure, but I think he sent away someone he loved.” Her voice dipped with sadness, and Jimin paused his bitter train to glance up at her.

“Why would he do that?”

“Best guess?” She met his gaze, and the pink of the lights couldn’t even touch the rose of her eyes, “To protect them.”

“What’s the moral of all this?” He asked, and Solar snorted over a smile like she was dealing with a cute child.

“It’s more of a question. Jimin,” She turned and grabbed his hands in hers, “if you were a Gem and you had the power to reunite Amethyst with what he’d lost, would you?” Jimin wanted to point out that this was supposed to be a hypothetical situation and he’d only come to the city to work on space ships, but…he figured he could indulge her, figured it would be nice to have a friend like her. So he thought about it.

“I guess it depends on what Amethyst was protecting them from.” He started. Solar opened her mouth to say something snarky, he could tell, but he cut her off with the rest of his opinion, “And…whether or not they could protect themselves.”

She regarded him with a small amount of wonder that was becoming a staple on her face. It was as if he was continuously going against what she expected, and he liked it.

“That…doesn’t help me at all, Chim.” She mumbled, and it felt like his ribs unexpectedly locked up. She blinked while he swallowed what felt like sand, and tried to grit out an explanation.

“You…before…when you called me—” There was squeezing in his chest that wouldn’t let him think, but wouldn’t let up until he found his answers, leaving him in a limbo of stuttering.

“Twinkle?” She supplied and he could only nod.

“And then now…with Chim. How do you know those? H-How do I know those?”

“Ohh, babe!” She sprang to her feet, throwing him sideways, “You want so badly to remember it's killing me!” She raked her fingers through her long rose gold hair and moaned. She looked a little possessed and Jimin wondered what was in her hot chocolate. What was in _ his _hot chocolate? 

“But I can’t! I can’t! Not when Tae broke his own heart in the process!” She wailed. “He’s still kinda young, ya know? And he’s Amethyst so he’s already pretty inexperienced—”

“He’s not that naïve.” Jimin suddenly blurted out and then stopped, gaping at Solar with wide confused eyes. “How do I know that?” He panicked. “Why do I know that?” The wild was coming back, a tide rising up in his lungs, but it ebbed when Solar put her hands on his shoulders.

“I can’t undo what Tae has done,” Her voice washed over him, pushing the fear back down, “but I can make it easier for you.”

Somewhere along the line, it became painfully obvious that the Amethyst from the story was the elusive Taehyung, and the loss that he suffered had been Jimin. But what could he possibly have wanted to protect Jimin from? What had they done for three whole Martian months that led to him being abandoned back home like a dog sent back to the shelter? Then there were the other questions: Who was Yoongi? How had Jimin gotten his burn? What happened to Agust? 

Things were already fairing pretty poorly, but an offer to make it better made it seem like things could get much much worse.

“H-How?” He hiccupped.

“Tourmaline amplifies powers and reactions. I can clip those loose ends we were talking about.” She smoothed her fingertips over his forehead and the coldness felt like it was rewiring him.

“Does that mean I’d forget?” He asked, closing his eyes.

“Yes, you’d forget all about Taehyung and whatever he was trying to keep you from. No more phantom memories, no more purple ghosts. You can go back to your life like none of this ever happened. How does that sound?”

Could he though? Go back to dreading every interaction with his parents, avoiding eye contact with his future wife, watching his friends tiptoe around him like he was a time bomb, live every day with the '_giant gaping hole’ _but not have any idea that someone somewhere actually cared about him?

“Solar?”

“Yeah Twinkle?”

“That sounds terrible.”

No, he couldn’t.


	3. Coward

The deal was simple:

_ “I have access to a ship, I could get us to the Bangtan.” Solar had grinned as she pulled Jimin through the crowded halls of H-9, back to the landing platform where Won Shik’s shuttle was hopefully still waiting after the underground club incident. _

_ “To what?” Jimin asked, and she just rolled her eyes. Her hand was cold in his, and he was fine with it, more than fine actually. The only girl he’d ever held hands with was Reem, but their interactions were hardly ever this…comfortable. _

_ “The only problem is, she isn’t functional.” Solar went on. _

_ “Let me guess:” Jimin interjected, already seeing where this was going, “you want me to fix it?” He’d come descended the aperture with the purpose of messing with ships, so technically it would be stupid to pass up an opportunity like this, but she was trying to use him, and they both knew it. _

_ “Exactly.” She stopped pulling at an intersection crowded with mining crew and admins. “In exchange, I’ll tell you all the stories Taehyung locked up inside your head.” She tapped her fingertips against his forehead and he scowled at the reminder, already a little bitter by the fact that there _ were _ stories hidden in there. _

_ “Be honest, Solar.” He grumbled, and she whipped her pink hair around to look at him intently, “Are you psychic?” He’d been wondering since she seemed to know exactly what he was thinking without speaking a word. _

_ “No, Twinkle,” She rolled her eyes again, and he figured she would be doing that a lot, “I can’t read your mind, but I can read Amethyst’s work. Just like I’d be able to juggle Ruby's bombs or play with Sapphire's hair when he's in a mood.” _

_ All he could do was look at her. “Most of the time I have no idea what you’re saying.” That was probably going to be their thing: she would roll her eyes at him, and he would deadpan at her. It was actually a little exciting having a _ thing _ with someone, but he didn’t say that out loud. She just grinned and reached up to pinch his cheek as if he was a little kid she was babysitting. _

_ “Just trust me.” She said, but he glowered. _

_ “That’s a lot to ask for.” And really, it was. They’d just met, she was promising things he wasn’t even really sure he wanted, wasn’t even really sure were real, and yet… _

_ “But it’s not _ too _ much, is it.” Instead of being a question, it was a statement, she could see it written on his face. _

_ “…no.” And it didn’t pain him as much as he thought it would. _

_ “Then it’s settled!” She beamed, planting both her hands on his chest. “Just come to the platform tomorrow after school or whatever you do on that mountain of yours.” And with that, she shoved him hard, hard enough to send him stepping back into the line of sight of the shuttle. _

_ “Jimin!” He immediately heard Yongbae’s voice and saw him coming off the platform, comm clutched in his fist. Jimin looked back for Solar, but the rose gold girl was gone. _

That was last week, and today, a day that he could actually go was seriously not going by fast enough.

“Alright, alright,” Mr. Cavaco at the front of his lecture hall droned on, “First things first, swipe up the assignment from last week, and no feed jacking. Looking at you, Jongin.” In seven neat rows students quickly pulled out their tablets and found their documents, sliding their fingers up the screen to send the data to the dropbox. Jimin slumped in his chair as lecture started, staring out the window instead of at the board. He could see the dome from there, the fake blue sky trapping them inside. There was a whole universe out there, and he’d seen it. A hollow part of him knew that, ached because he couldn’t remember. Adventures and people and places he’d lived and experienced and he couldn’t even recall what they looked like. And then he looked forward to the two seats that were empty. 

Agust never woke up.

It seemed like Agust was _ never going _to wake up, not unless Jimin did something.

When the session was over, he didn’t even wait for Yongbae to try and talk him out of it, knowing he was still mad at Jimin for _ ‘running off’ _. They were all upset, but Jimin knew it was only because they thought he’d disappeared again. The resentful part of him wanted to accuse them of pretending for the sake of saving face, that they’d certainly moved on quick enough once it looked like he wasn’t coming back...but he knew better. He could see the tension in the set of Yongbae’s shoulders whenever Jimin said something odd or did something he wouldn’t normally do. Jimin was different, and Yongbae was trying so hard just to keep things how they were.

_ “Everyone handles grief differently,” Mrs. De had said on one of the rare occasions that Jimin felt compelled to go back and see Agust over the last month he’d been awake. She was always there, and he’d taken to visiting to see her more than the younger. _

_ “He doesn’t seem like he’s grieving.” Jimin had grumbled, leaning on the back two legs of the chair, holding Agust’s bed for support. _

_ “He lost his best friend. Doesn’t he have a reason to?” She asked and he frowned. _

_ “But I came back.” _

_ “Yongbae has the same questions everyone else has, only he can’t ask because he needs to protect you,” She stood in her stilettos and took a turn about the room, rearranging flowers and spritzing them with enzyme bottles, “I suspect he wants to know most of all why you were with Agust...and not with him.” She gave him a look, one he understood by now meant she really would like to know that as well. _

_ “I don’t know why though,” Jimin mumbled, dropping all four legs to the ground with a thump. _

_ “So he’s waiting until you do.” _

Jimin told himself he was going for Yongbae, that his best friend deserved answers after the hell he’d put him through...but that lie only survived for a hot second before it clashed with the truth: _ he just really truly deeply had to know. _So he hopped the first shuttle to H-9, ducking his head when people passed, hoping they wouldn’t recognize the Governor’s son who went missing from the holo. The trip was short, and before he knew it, Jimin was stumbling around level 287, quietly cursing Solar for not giving him more information about where to meet her.

“You called?” A voice suddenly tickled his ear and he nearly jumped out of his skin. “Come on! What took you so long, Twinkle?” She skipped around and grabbed his hand, pulling him further into the rock of Mars. She was wearing the same clothes from when she’d taken him and his friends to the club, her long pink hair pulled up into a high ponytail.

The typical living units and hall vendors of the aperture slowly transformed into more industrial outfits as they made their way deeper into the planet, further from the sun, meaning they were getting into the more mechanical section of the chasm until they stopped in front of a large bay door with key code entry.

“You have access to this?” Jimin tried to keep his tone light, but there was the insinuation of_ ‘how-the-hell-could-she-afford-this?’ _in the back of his head and he figured she read it before he even uttered a word. With a scoff, she reached under her shirt and pulled a metallic key card from her bra--or well, at least he thinks it was her bra--and swiped it. The locked flashed green before the two big doors parted to reveal a small but well-equipped work area with a high ceiling. 

“What is this place?” He asked, taking a tentative step in. It looked like a sinkhole, rock above and rock below, but a pocket of space that accommodated a random assortment of things. Tables lined the slightly rounded walls, piled high with tools, wires, junk--it was mostly junk. The ceiling was as he thought tall, but upon closer inspection, he saw the jagged definitions of an opening. This was a tube! An underground launchpad! 

“What do you mean?” She grinned and skipped ahead, leading his eyes to the center where her ship--_ Jupiter, could he even call it that? _\--sat. It was tiny, like smaller than the shuttle that brought him here from the mountaintop. 

“_ That’s _your ship?” His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. Not only was it small, but it was also run down as hell. The spine of the shuttle sported a delicate curve that stretched from the tip of the nose to the dorsal, two vertical wings on either side that were--in his opinion--pointless, and a cockpit entry on the starboard side. But one of the front viewports was busted, the edge of every panel was rusting, and Jimin feared what the inside could possibly look like. Had she gotten this thing at a dump?

“Sure is!” She beamed and slapped the nose twice like it was a big beloved pet. Something somewhere fell off and clattered to the ground, and Jimin groaned loudly. 

“Soooo,” Solar lounged on top of the wing Jimin begrudgingly tinkered with, wondering if an entire colony of mice lived in the wiring or maybe just one very destructive beast.

“So?” He mumbled, picking through the inner workings with dread. This was going to be near impossible and probably cost a fortune.

“What do you think?” She peered down at him with an eager glint in her eye when he gaped at her.

“I think it’s a death trap, Solar!”

“Oh, it’s not that bad!” She jeered, but he shook his head.

“No, it really is! Seriously, Kyungsoo would have a freaking...field day…” He stalled out, fingers stilling on the edge of one panel as the image of a black-haired boy with one blue eye and one brown eye popped into his head. “Who's that?” He muttered, but Solar heard him. She hopped off the wing to come up behind him and perched her chin on his shoulder.

“Fix my baby and I’ll tell you.”

He shrugged her off, but there was a triumphant smirk on her face.

“How would I even know you’re telling me the truth?” He challenged, feeling like he was still on the losing side of this deal.

“They’re your memories, Twinkle.” She shrugged, walking off to the side of the hangar where work tables were stacked up against the walls. “You’ll know if I’m lying.” She ran her hands over the tools scattered over top; wrenches, plasma cutters, welder sticks, and things Jimin didn’t even recognize.

“But why are you even bothering?” He followed her because he’d been wanting to know since she pulled him out of the night club, “What do you get out of this?” Her usual smile flattened into a hard line, and when she looked up at him, he realized he may have hit a nerve.

“Gems were born from a star, and that makes us closer to dust than anything else in the universe.” She started bitterly, and he regretted asking, “Most of the time that means we have no idea who we’re meant to be or what we’re supposed to do. We just wander around the galaxy, but sometimes,” She looked down at her nails when she couldn’t meet his eye anymore, “we see a glimmer of kismet in the breath of someone we meet, and we cling to them.” There were no hypotheticals this time--She was a Gem, Tourmaline. She was born in the heart of a dying sun and she was one of the twelve that survived.

“Amethyst does that with his Spark, but I...I was mistaken.” 

“What do you mean?” He wanted her to explain the bulk of what she just said, about Sparks and Gems, and the universe telling her where to go, but from the way she was biting her bottom lip, he figured it was too tender. Hopefully, she would share the whole truth with him...eventually. 

“I guess I saw something that wasn’t really there,” She said after a moment, trying to shrug but it came off as more of a flinch, “and I’ve been stuck here paying for it ever since.” She gestured around like the hangar was some sort of cage and she’d been trapped down here for a century. 

Solar was certainly a whirlwind, extremes apparently her standard. She was either happy and smirking or she was...well she looked devastated,

“So if we make it to Taehyung--” He wondered aloud, but she cut him off.

“Anywhere is better than here, Chim.” The look in her eye was all he needed to see. Mainly because he’d witnessed it in the mirror far too many times to dismiss it. Whether it was physical or not, she felt trapped here in this aperture, and fuck anyone who tried to stop him from setting her free.

⟢⟡⟣

Every child who grew up under a dome had heard of Sparks. They were the equivalent of an Earth boogeyman, the kind of monster parents used to get their children to behave, or banished from the closet when they couldn’t sleep. Jongin, Jimin’s resident nerd child, had harped about the curiosities of the universe since they were kids. He loved comic books about aliens and reading those articles about deep space anomalies. He was the clear choice of who to go to for information--okay, _ obviously not _the clear choice, but Jimin already bothered Solar enough, and he didn’t want to detach completely from Halisca...not yet. 

He invited Jongin over on a day he knew Yongbae would be busy. Not because he didn’t want his best friend to know, but because Bae was a bit too pragmatic for Jongin’s fantasizing, and tended to steer the conversation away when it was brought up. 

Jongin was tall and slim, sporting a bleach-blond cut his mother hated, but there was always something about his gentle smile that Jimin found comforting. They camped out in his room reading comics he had brought over and surfing the holonet for YouTube videos that proclaimed to be _ ‘PROOF OF ALIEN LIFE’ _. He figured the best way to approach it would be to just blurt it out there, but every time he opened his mouth to ask, the question died in his throat. It was stupid, wasn’t it? There was no such thing as aliens, no such thing as Gems or Sparks. Solar had to be lying, a long con on the Governor’s son to make an even bigger fool out of him than he already had. 

But Agust never woke up. 

And Yongbae was waiting for answers. 

And this was Jongin, and there was no way he would judge Jimin for anything he asked. He was too gentle, too easygoing, too firmly rooted in his own belief of ‘_ anything is possible _’ to turn Jimin away. So he opened his mouth again, and this time, although pretty shaky, he asked,

“So…Sparks.”

Jongin glanced up from the floor where he was sitting in a semicircle, semi-shrine of comics that looked older than their colony itself. Jimin was lounging on his stomach at the end of the bed, peeking over his shoulder as his friend highlighted all the good bits.

“Sparks?” Jongin wondered, and Jimin had to swallow a massive lump in his throat before nodding. “Is this about me wanted to get Spark Blocking tech? Because I swear it’s legal, and it’s necessary Min! Its—”

“Hold on,” Jimin sputtered, “Did you just say _ ‘Spark Blocking Tech’ _?”

“Yes! I was telling you about it at lunch last week!”

“What the hell is Spark Blocking Tech?” Jongin gave him a withering look, and yeah so maybe the name was pretty self-explanatory, but the necessity was not.

“It’s an implant that makes you immune to possession. Sparks take over people’s bodies, turn them into mindless zombies to do their evil bidding.” He shoved a comic book right up in Jimin’s face that depicted an off-green emaciated skeleton with its arms outstretched, moaning for brains.

“Evil bidding, huh?” He swatted the magazine away, but Jongin grinned despite Jimin’s skepticism.

“I know I’ve told you about the first-ever recorded incident involving Sparks and Martians.”

Jimin blanked, “Yes, absolutely, you definitely have…” Jongin wasn’t buying it.

“You have no idea.” To which Jimin winced and bowed his head to his wonderful friend who he should be better to. 

“No, I’m sorry. I swear I’ll listen to you from now on.”

“Ahuh,” Jongin sighed, but he didn’t seem particularly surprised. Instead, he climbed up onto the bed with Jimin, laying shoulder to shoulder so he could tell the story he’d probably told a bunch of different time. 

“So back when the ISS built H-1, they had this scientist—_ Ansh Dalal _—who reportedly went crazy for no reason. And I mean like, crazy crazy; like rip all your clothes off and sprint through the bio lab naked crazy. And when they finally caught he was doing some weird stuff, man.” The look on his face was a bit spaced like even he was a little unsettled although he definitely hadn’t been there. 

“Like what?” Jimin urged, jostling his shoulder into Jongin’s, who jostled back. 

“Like he used to be a righty, but was suddenly a lefty, or how he couldn’t pick his wife out of a lineup but he knew everything about her. Then, sometimes, he would randomly switch languages, I guess he knew a bunch, so he would start a sentence in English and then randomly switch to Hindi or French. When they asked why he’d taken all his clothes off he told them they were suffocating and asked why should he wear them? Eventually, they diagnosed him as insane and were going to ship him back to Earth, but before they could he jumped out an airlock.”

“And they think a Spark made him do it?”

“According to reports, right before his eyeballs froze and exploded, bystanders saw a flash of light, a spark if you will, that shot off into space.” Jongin grinned at the pun of it, which was as endearing as it was horrible, “But nobody could substantiate those claims. Ever since then, when someone starts acting weird, they think they’ve been possessed by a Spark.”

Jimin processed the story for a long moment, wondering a bit meta-ly, how one would know if they were possessed. 

“Do you think I could be a Spark?” He blurted, and even though asking was somehow cathartic, it made him want to pass out at the same time. 

“No, Min. You’re still you.” Jongin answered immediately, grabbing his shoulder and squeezing assuredly. 

“How are you so sure?” Jimin muttered, burying his face in his comforter.

“Just because Bae feels guilty doesn’t mean you’re actually acting any different than before. He needs to let it go.”

Jimin looked over at him in surprise. Yongbae? What did Yongbae have to do with him acting like he was being possessed? 

“Guilty? Why does he feel guilty?” He asked, but Jongin shuddered to a stop like he realized he’d said something he shouldn't have. After a moment, he sighed and said,

“You should probably talk to him about that.”

⟢⟡⟣

The routine Jimin set with Solar was easily the best thing he’d done since he woke up in the hospital. Throughout the weeks after classes, when he could get away with it, he shuttled down to H-9 to work on her ship. She always had every part ready and waiting, never mentioning money or where she’d gotten it. All he had to do was to tell her what he needed and she would get it for him. And just like she promised, she would roost somewhere in the hangar while he was working and answer every question he asked.

“So where do you want to start?” She sat--well, laid--in the hatch, her back on the ground and her legs sticking up in the air against the frame of the door.

“Start?” He yelled from inside the comms panel behind the ramp.

“The story!” She exclaimed, “Your wild adventure!”

“The beginning I guess.”

“Be more specific Twinkle, the brain is a twisty place.” He scowled at the circuit board in front of him, charmed but still annoyed.

“The day of the party, with Taehyung and Agust.” He specified.

“Whose Agust?” He heard her ask. Jimin crawled out of the panel and wiped his forehead on his arm.

“The guy I was found with.” He pulled off the gloves she’d given him and got up to grab a water pouch from the backpack he’d brought. “I need to know what happened to him.” He had to step over her in the process and she stuck her tongue out. He could only grin. When he came back though, her face had pinched into an expression of bewilderment.

“Huh...” She grunted, and he was tempted to pour his water all over her just for the heck of it.

“What?”

“You have two names for the same face.” She swung her legs over the side and got up, probably knowing he was planning to douse her, but her face was still grave.

“What do you mean?” He asked while she tiptoed around the tools strewn on the floor, cluttered with bits of fried wiring and rusted tips.

“Remember how I mentioned Taehyung hangs around a Spark?” She asked, and Jimin thought back to his conversation with Jongin.

He scoffed, “Yeah but Sparks aren’t real...are they?” He let that little bit of uncertainty bleed through, because still the bumps rose on his arms, and as far as he knew, Solar had never lied to him. He couldn't prove that in any way, but he still believed.

“Oh they are, little Chim Chim, they are.” She nodded, but he found that he was now used to the life-altering nonsense that came out of her mouth.

“So then Agust--” 

“The Spark who took over Agust is named Yoongi, and you guys…” She gave him a hard look, one that made him gulp, before whispering, “you were _ close _.” Jimin recalled thinking of Yoongi in the night club, of wishing he was there to keep the panic attack at bay. Now that he had confirmation, he knew Solar was telling him the truth, at least in some parts. 

“Let’s just start at the top,” She nodded to herself before grabbing hold of the wing and hoisting herself up. Her legs dangled over the sides as she settled in, hinting that Jimin should get to work too. Before diving into a story, she took a deep breath, one that began the last day he remembered before the ‘_ giant gaping hole _’.

⟢⟡⟣

He walked blindly, stumbling his way down the corridor. Reem had been there one moment, and then the next she was gone. He vaguely remembered dropping her off at the Shelves and then just...wandering. Did he even have a place to go? Would he ever go back there? It was dinner that did it. Jimin could set the scene in his head so easily it was painful. Their large light blue dining room, contrasting with the dark metal of the long table and tall-backed chairs. There was room enough for twelve, yet there were only the four of them staring at each other awkwardly.

“So, Reem, your mother tells me you’ve been struggling in mathematics. Maybe Jimin could help. He won the Sinope Award last year, you know.” His mother sang per usual, trying to make small talk, trying to make sure the silence wasn’t so loud. Reem was characteristically rigid, but she smiled politely and admitted that yes she was struggling, but she preferred to figure things out on her own. “A good work ethic!” His mother gushed, “How charming!”

“He didn’t win this year though.” Jimin’s father--Park Seungmin as a person was like a gulp of dry red wine that you hadn't been expecting. It sits on the tongue and dries out your mouth, and then the flavor tastes a little like dirt. It’s unpleasant even when it looked refreshing, and you regret it almost immediately. He sliced through his steak with predatory ease and Jimin couldn’t find it in himself to take the insult to heart. It was plenty full of insults already.

“Oh, well, yes…” His mother tried to recover with a pained smile, but they all knew once his father got started, there was no saving the meal.

“In fact, I can’t for the life of me think of anything my son excels at.” He said through his bite of meat.

“Dear…” His mother tried to pacify him, but he ignored her as usual.

“Except perhaps parading around in the lower levels with Castor De’s son.” Ahhhh, Jimin almost sagged with relief. That’s what this was about. Someone had seen him with Agust. “Would someone like to tell me why my child was spotted romping around 84 with the son of the biggest pain in my neck?” His outward demeanor was calm, but Jimin could see the fury rolling around under his skin like an itch he loved to scratch. He swallowed down any hesitancy in his voice because if there was anything his father hated more than the Earth Ambassador, Castor De, it was Jimin’s own meekness.

“Yongbae was being amiable with the exchange student from Deimos, who is friends with Agu--”

“_ Don’t _ say his name!” He banged his fist on the table, making the knives and forks jump in emphasis. Out of the corner of his eye, Jimin saw Reem carefully slip her hands down to her lap. His father was a professional, and as such, made the effort to keep ‘family matters’ between the family, and Reem wasn’t included in that...yet. Jimin was sure she suspected, but this was the first time his father was having a full meltdown in front of her. She probably felt awkward, and he wanted to apologize, but he couldn’t. 

“So Castor has ties to the Deimos, that’s what you’re telling me?” He asked, and Jimin swallowed. 

“I guess--” Jimin started,

“And _ his _ son is helping him further his goals while _ my _son is slurping noodles like some sort of mine puff?” 

“I don’t know what your goals are--” Jimin tried to defend himself but it was pointless, his father cut him off.

“They should be fucking obvious, Jimin! To anyone with half a brain!” Seungmin stood angrily, the legs of his chair scraping against the otherwise silent room. Jimin picked up his fork out of instinct, but heaven forbid he looked like he was defending himself, what a provocation that would be. He pushed the meat around on his plate instead.

“Maybe if you shared with me how I can help--”

“I really do have to do everything around here, don’t I?” Two big hands stamped down on the table, and he leered at Jimin from across that expanse that was so so wide. “I have to give you hints, and string you along like a stupid child? Well, I don’t have time for that, and any help you provide wouldn’t even be worth it!”

He was numb to the anger at this point in his life. He was pretty sure it was there, somewhere under his ribs, struggling under his lungs and that’s why they burned. But he’d learned long ago that his father’s tantrums were like sandstorms, they were tumultuous and violent, but there was no way to stop it and it would be over soon enough. He knew this, his mother knew this, hell even the Sims probably knew this, but it was suddenly apparent that Reem did not. As his father was going off, in that same periphery, Jimin saw Reem begin to open her mouth, and he panicked. 

“Then what do you want from me?” He blurted out the first thing that came to mind, just so Reem wouldn’t. She was diplomatic and subtle, he knew, but neither of those would deflect his father’s anger if she spoke over him.

“Excuse me?” Seungmin ’s eyebrows hit his hairline and Jimin would dare say he looked shocked.

“I asked what the fuck you want from me then?” He was already there, already past a line he promised never to cross. But then really, who had he promised? Himself? Why? “Should I just stand in the corner with my nose to the wall like some sort of bargaining chip that you can marry off as soon as possible? I’m not a fucking princess.” He didn’t even think. It was like the moment he decided not to be silent, the words just started to rush out, and somehow each one took him taller and taller until he was eye level with his father, and the distance had never been so small.

“You sure as hell act like one!” Seungmin shouted back, and Jimin matched his volume.

“Why? You assume just because we’re rich means I’m spoiled?”

“You’re a sniveling child,” His father snapped, “never satisfied with what I provide for you!” He said_ ‘I’ _as if Jimin’s mother hadn’t been there his whole life teaching him how to mitigate damage and keep quiet when one should.

“How would you know that?” Jimin hissed, his hands balling into fists at his sides, fuck provocation. “We haven’t had a conversation in years that didn’t involve you throwing something!”

“Oh, you want me to throw something?” Seungmin pitched forward, reaching for one of the silver candelabras that stood like sentinels on the table. Jimin had always hated them because there was one in front of each chair, and when your world felt like a cage, they just looked like bars. “_ I’ll throw something _!”

Jimin’s mother’s eyes were frantic. They switched between her son and her husband, pleading for this not to escalate any further. “Honey! Not in front of our guest!” She sprang up and reached for him, but didn’t touch, didn’t want to be the new focus, just tried to block whatever view Reem had even though there was no helping that.

Jimin had watched his mother tiptoe around his father his whole life, and while he’d seen this play out before, this was the first time he wanted to feel the anger, give in to the urge to hit him, to yell at his mother for never fighting back, to beat in his skull until it was as broken as H-3. 

“No, go ahead.” He snapped, “That way Reem can tell her family exactly what kind of man you are--!”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His father spat, one hand on the candlestick, one hand now held back by his mother, “You’d just love it if they absolved their contract with us! Then you can finally go stick your dick into whatever you want.”

The sudden change in topic brought them all to a standstill, and it was as if someone had thrown ice water in Jimin’s face. The anger eased, the fire died down, and what replaced it was even worse: _ fear _.

“What does that have to do--” He tried to say but his father could smell blood in the water like a shark and he sank his words into Jimin’s heart.

“You think it isn’t obvious you’re a twink? Do you think you’re so good at hiding it?” Time seemed to slow down, and the overwhelming sense to run tried to crawl it’s way up his throat. 

Jimin had always been different and it never escaped his father’s notice: He saw things differently, fought for the wrong side, was short when he was supposed to be tall, liked boys instead of girls. It seemed like he was a walking contradiction to all things _ Halisca _ , but for as long as he’d been alive, Jimin had been trained in the art of making his father look good. He knew exactly what to do, and what _ not _to do.

He swallowed hard around the excuses on the tip of his tongue because they would bounce off his father’s prejudice like a shield. The only thing he could do was deny it, and deny it hard. Across from him, his mother was as white as a sheet as she clung to the man he assumed she must have once loved, and she stared at Jimin unblinkingly. 

“That’s ludicrous.” 

It took him a moment to realize who spoke, but he slowly, stutteringly, look down at Reem who was the only one still seated. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, and her legs were casually crossed. She didn’t seem the least bit fazed by any of this outburst now, as if she’d been expecting it. Jimin’s father was a well-trained illusion--he knew exactly how to act and present himself in public, but he let that mask slip at home. When it was just the three of them, he usually ripped it off to unveil the monster underneath, but that was only when they were alone. Reem had seen pieces here and there before the persona slipped back on, so she must have suspected what lurked underneath. It made Jimin feel like he’d definitely spoken up for no reason because his fiance could more than take care of herself. 

“Jimin is _ not _gay. We’ve had sex.” 

The three Parks ceased their bickering long enough to stare at her, and Jimin slowly felt the blood drain from his face. Because that was a complete and utter lie. She was trying to cover for him, cover for the fact that they very rarely even touched, let alone had been intimate with each other. But her eyes were locked with Seungmin’s and she didn’t back down. 

“Is that true?” Seungmin asked, but he didn’t break eye contact. Jimin gulped because he knew he couldn’t lie for shit, and he was already sucked dry from the whiplash of anger from before. But before he could offer up his best confirmation, his mother--_ for the first time in his whole life _\--intervened. 

“Yes, he-he came to me after--I mean, _ before _...f-for supplies.” Her eyes were frantic, and he could tell where he got his inability to lie from, but the fact of the matter was that she was trying. The fact of the matter was that Jimin had never hated himself more than he hated himself right then. If he possessed even an iota of courage, he would come out. There was nothing wrong with it, no laws against it, no stigma really anymore. It was just his father and his perverted sense of humanity that had kept him stuck in the closet all these years. But he wasn’t brave, even when his father dismissed him and his wife from the table, even when Reem tugged his elbow and got his legs to move. 

He was not brave. He was a coward. And he was going to let everyone else get hurt because of him. 

⟢⟡⟣

Jimin sucked down the pouch he snatched out of someone’s hand in one burning gulp. The girl, some nameless face he went to school with, looked mildly offended but he couldn’t find space in himself to care. Every inch was taken up with his immense mortification, self-loathing, and hatred--just a lot of hatred. He’d hated his father for years; Jimin knew it, his mother knew it, hell even his father knew it. But this was a new level he’d reached, one he knew deep down in the center of his bones they would never come back from. His father saw him as disgusting, as pathetic, while Seungmin, in turn, was a monster, a tyrant, a liar. And worse yet, Jimin had been made in his image. Forged within the precious security of their mountaintop apartments at the uni on the planet, not even afraid to travel down the apertures, because who would dare touch him?

He’d wobbled all the way to the party in H-3, brain on auto-pilot now that his arms and heart were numb. Only the student body knew about it, and even if his father cared enough to come after him, he’d never do it in front of so many people.

The aperture had been sealed off after an accident a month ago. It was a restricted construction zone, meaning there was air down there and they didn’t have to drink through specialized straw holes in vac-suits, but it was zero-G, and things were weird when there was no gravity. Huge maintenance shafts fed into one large room at the very bottom of the chasm, originally used for debris disposal but empty now that it had all been sucked out during the disaster. Someone brought old lawn chairs down like they were all on some sort of picnic, but they had to be magged to the floor so they wouldn’t drift off on adventures of their own. In the middle of the chamber was a glowing ball of highly controversial fire some idiot was roasting marshmallows over. With no gravity to direct the oxygen, the fire globed and spun lazily some mythical martian magic. Hopefully, someone was keeping an eye on it, because Jimin wasn’t in the frame of mind to be responsible. 

From where he was curled up on himself in a neon green lawn chair, Jimin caught sight of Agust De and the Deimo exchange student from across the large room talking to some girls. Agust, with his floppy midnight hair, was sporting an ensemble of all black: black skinnys under a black turtleneck. He looked like a shadow in comparison to Taehyung who was a walking tapestry. His purple hair stood out against the background, but was less conspicuous than his embroidered silk kimono top, layered over wide bottom printed pants. They both depicted different scenes: the top of swimming Koi fish, and the bottom, a battle between cranes. Distantly, Jimin wondered where the hell he could have bought something like them, but it was a faraway thing. He was still too numb to process, too numb to care. Objectively the two were opposing, and that’s all that caught his attention. But the more he watched the two, the more he thawed out. Why did he even hate Agust De? Because his father told him to? Also maybe because he was a bit of an ass? But he hadn’t been an ass today. He’d told his friend to shut up when Jimin got uncomfortable, he’d had lunch with them at the bottom of an aperture and didn't let it bother him, he’d introduced Taehyung to Jimin like they weren’t mortal enemies--like they never had been.

Jimin took another swig of his pouch, suddenly realizing that he could taste it now. It was strawberry--he hated strawberries. He took another swig because if there was anything Jimin was good at, it was doing things he hated. Like pretending to be something he wasn’t, like never standing up for himself, like smiling when all he wanted to do was cry. 

He spotted Yongbae flirting with a girl over the globe of fire, pressing in tight when she giggled at something he said. If Jimin could just be like that, maybe things would be better for him. Maybe his father wouldn’t hate him so much and he wouldn’t rely on Reem to protect him. He’d told her the socially polite things when he dropped her off at the _ Shelves _, about how embarrassed he was that his father acted that way and that she had to see it. 

_ “Jimin, stop.” She’d said as she took his hand gently. His brain told him to ask, ‘stop what’ , or ‘what do you mean’ because deflection was his baseline, but he bit his tongue. _

_ “I’m sorry.” Was all he could say in instead. _

_ “No one in my family is illusioned by Park Seungmin.” Reem said, “They know what kind of man he is, and they want the union anyway.” _

_ “I’m sorry.” Jimin grimaced. _

_ “You once told me that I never had to pretend with you, so I don't understand why you’re even trying with me.” _

_ “I’m sorry.” _

_ She pursed her lips into a thin line, and Jimin felt himself slip just a little further away. _

_ “Don’t be sorry. Just know that one day we’ll burn their empire to the ground...together.” _

_ I’m sorry, Jimin wanted to say again because he didn’t think he was brave enough for that either. _

“Jiminie!” Taehyung’s voice blasted right into Jimin’s ear, startling him right out of the chair. “You came!” Jimin flailed, pouch spewing little floating bubbles of alcohol into the atmosphere. Taehyung’s laugh rang in his head like a gong, bouncing off his skull until all those numb bits came back to life and he was feeling everything at once. The bombastic boy swirled around him in his silk and splendor and made Jimin feel a little like he was drowning. 

“Y-Yeah,” He managed, clutching his drink tighter than necessary. “Date night was...” He trailed off. Canceled? Postponed? Fucked beyond repair? When he glanced up, he made the mistake of looking Taehyung in the eyes, and he got to watch the slideshow of emotions that flashed across his face. First, it was anger--the pinch in between his purple eyebrows--then it was a choking expression, a lack of air in the zero-G, and then the downturn of his eyes that Jimin knew and hated: _ pity _. It wasn’t like people didn’t suspect Park Seungmin was a tyrant, it was just that no one could ever prove it. His mother, despite her display earlier, was the biggest proprietor of leaving private matters behind closed doors. Still, that didn’t stop some people from looking at them like Taehyung was looking at him now. So small, so frail, so silly for not doing anything to make it stop. It was a slap in the face that the purple-haired boy was capable of pulling Jimin back to life only too look at him like he was too feeble to live it. 

Before Jimin could do anything insolent, like scowl and snap or just fucking leave like he suddenly had the urge to, Taehyung grabbed his elbow and pulled him towards the pile of pouches on the other side of the fire. Space was cold, and it was more of a luxury to have a warm beverage than a cold one, so the hovering hill of silver pouches was unattended and already the perfect temperature when Taehyung grabbed a few. Each had a little colored sticker on the front to indicate flavor, and Taehyung snatched the strawberry one out of Jimin’s hand, only to replace it with a blush pink stickered one. 

“You should like that better.” 

Curious as to who the hell he thought he was, Jimin sipped it ready to tell him otherwise, but was surprised at the subtle dry sweetness of it. It wasn’t a pucker punch to the palate like the other one had been, and he took another sip. “It’s a Rosé.” 

“Yeah! Here, take this to the grump while I find a Mead.” He shoved a pouch with a brown sticker in Jimin’s hands like he hadn’t just asked the impossible of him. 

“The grump? As in, like, Agust, the grump?” Jimin scoffed, glancing over to where the Earthling standing, pouch already in hand, conversing with some classmates. 

“Duh,” Taehyung said without looking up from his digging. Of course, duh, it was obvious. Who else was as grumpy as Agust De? But his name tugged a thread tethered to the disastrous dinner, ‘_ Castor De’s son is helping him further his goals while my son is slurping noodles like some sort of mine puff _ ’, ‘ _ Do you think you’re so good at hiding it, you twink? _’. 

Jimin shuddered, but the revolution that threatened to blanket him again was cut shot by Taehyung’s hand on his knee. 

“Go give that to Agust.” He said, and Jimin figured it was easier to follow orders than think. So he wobbled over to where Agust was slouched, hand shoved in his pants pocket. He noticed Jimin coming halfway and openly stared, ignoring the others who were trying to speak to him. The thought that Taehyung had somehow tricked him and Agust was going to eat him for speaking to him in public crossed Jimin’s mind, but he felt detached at the neck, brain floating distantly above him in the zero G. The girl beside Agust tapped his wrist lightly when Jimin joined their circle, and it was too obvious to ignore how he was staring. 

“Here,” Jimin mumbled, shoving the pouch at Agust, “Looked like you were running low.” He wanted to go back over to Taehyung because at least there were fewer eyes over there, but he was stuck in Agust’s line of sight. The strands of his black hair fell limply over his forehead like they had that morning as if he couldn’t be bothered to make himself presentable even for a party. Jimin was jealous. He was jealous, and he was annoyed that he was jealous. Castor De’s son, this was Castor De’s perfect son who was helping him further his goals while Jimin couldn’t even--

“Thanks,” Agust said, slowly taking the pouch, and Jimin gaped as he brazenly chucked the one he’d had in his hand over his shoulder. It landed on a chair in the corner, leaking out floating droplets of dark red liquid, while he sipped on the new one. Jimin’s shock was mirrored by the other kids who were still standing there, all of them wondering if the Earthling had finally lost his mind. It took a minute of stunned silence, but Agust eventually glanced over, like he’d forgotten the others were there. 

“Leave?” Jimin did not understand how the order--request?--sounded so incredulous and casual at the same time, but they quickly left, leaving just Jimin and just Agust who was back to unabashedly staring. 

“What?” Jimin asked, the undivided attention starting to make him nervous.

“Huh? Oh, nothing.” Agust mumbled, finally breaking eye contact and drinking his pouch. Jimin wanted to ask why the hell it seemed like he’d maybe fallen asleep staring, but before he could work up his nonexistent courage, the purple-haired portrait came back to join him, two pouches in one hand. 

“So!” Taehyung tossed himself over Jimin’s shoulder and grinned big and boxy, “You come here often?” His eyes glinted with mischief, but not towards Jimin. He could tell that that’s just how Taehyung was--_ mischievous _. 

“Nobody comes here often,” Won Shik announced as he strolled up to them, a pretty girl on his arm that he wore like jewelry. He was wearing that ugly mustard-colored blouse Jongin insisted he buy, and despite it looking hideous in the catalog, Won Shik definitely had the knack to pull anything off. “H-3 has been shut down since the accident. That’s why we’re down here stuck drinking in zero-G.” He sneered at his pouch when some stray droplets dribbled out, hovering in the air beside his hand.

“What happened?” Taehyung asked, looping his arm around Jimin’s front to slurp from his double pouch (watermelon and lemonade by the looks of it).

“De?” Won Shik chuckled, directing his question at Agust who had turned his attention to the floor, “Did you not tell your friend?” Jimin’s whole body tensed up, both at the mention of the accident and at Won Shik’s brave teasing. Everyone knew Agust De didn’t tease or joke. He’d made someone disappear for less. But, to Jimin’s continued surprise, Agust only shrugged and turned to Taehyung with a conspiratorial eyebrow.

“Must have slipped my mind.”

Taehyung burst out laughing, and Jimin couldn’t figure out what was so amusing.

“The dome cracked,” The girl on Won Shik’s arm spoke up, “don’t see how that’s funny.” She was tan for a Martian, sporting a mini dress that matched her mag-boots, but as beautiful as she looked, there were lines around her eyes that told a different story. Suddenly no one was laughing anymore. That faint feeling of his brain floating like a balloon tied to a string started to creep up the back of his neck but was stalled as Taehyung pulled him a little closer under his arm. Despite how much contact there was, Taehyung was cool to the touch, and it was a relief because everything about Jimin was hot and ruddy from humiliation.

“Sorry,” Agust coughed, although he didn’t seem too perturbed by his behavior, and that was typical Agust behavior.

The girl turned her nose up at them, and Jimin figured that she must be one of the refugees from H-3. These were her stomping grounds, and they‘d just laughed at her misfortune.

“The shell split in half. Nobody knows how or why, but ever since then they haven't been able to repair it.” She looked pointedly at Taehyung whose face was half-hidden in Jimin’s hair. It was a lot of personal contact, and Jimin should probably have said something about it, but instead, he avoided Won Shik’s curious gaze and let Taehyung pull him that much more in.

“Why not?” Taehyung asked into his scalp, making the fuzz on the back of Jimin's neck stand on end. The fact that he wasn’t actually uncomfortable crossed his mind, coupled with the fact that he didn’t think he’d ever been this close with anybody, not even Reem. He liked it, and the only reason that didn’t terrify him was that his brain was pleasantly detached by alcohol and stress.

“First it was too complicated, something about materials and such, but then it turned political.” Hell, just the word sparked off in Jimin's chest, and he turned his attention away just so he wouldn’t have to hear the words when she said his father’s name. Anything was better than hearing how his father was manipulating government funds or should be under investigation for corruption. Anything was better than hearing about him at all. So he looked to Agust, tripped into his stare willingly and buried himself under it. “Earth obviously sabotaged it, and now refuse to help us fix it. They killed hundreds of people and won’t even take the credit. How pathetic--” 

“That’s nice and all,” Taehyung interrupted and Jimin couldn’t be more grateful, “but this is not really party talk.”

“Oh really?” She snorted, pulling away from Won Shik so she could stand on her own two legs to argue, “you’re gonna party in my basement without caring that the rest of the house is trashed?” 

Jimin wanted to say something, wanted to pacify the fight he could feel brewing under the atmosphere of zero-G, but Taehyung wasn’t put off by her anger.

“S’not my home. Come on, Jiminie!” Taehyung beamed, pulling Jimin and Agust away like the girl wasn’t glaring daggers at all three of them.

“I get the Earthling,” She all but yelled and Taehyung had to pause because Jimin did, “But what about you?” He knew she was talking to him now. He was the only one in the three who was from Halisca after all. “You don’t care either?” She growled when he turned back to look at her, “Just like your dad?”

And just like that, his head plummeted back into his body with the gravitational pull of a meteor. Everything from earlier that he was trying really hard to distance himself from came back full force, a fantastical supernova of hatred. From the tips of his toes to the top of his head, he burned hot with it, and when he met her head-on, even Won Shik locked his jaw at how his eyes burned.

“_ Do not _ compare me to him.”

“You--” She thought she could match him, and that was a mistake because Jimin was a professional at doing things he hated, like pretending he was fine when he wasn’t, like hurting people who were already hurt.

“I _ do _ care.” He hissed, taking a step forward, a step away from the cool touch of Taehyung and letting the fire of his anger scorch on his skin, “In fact, I’m more than happy your friends finally get some peace.” 

“My friends?” She squinted. Far removed, he registered someone sucking in a breath to try and stop him, but they weren’t fast enough to save her from his fury.

“You know,” he growled, “the _ dead _ones. They don’t have to hear you whine anymore, so I’m kinda jealous, honestly. A little peace and quiet was all I wanted after the night I’ve had.”

“Holy shit,” Won Shik took a full and complete step away from the girl and covered his mouth with a hand, probably to hide his shock. A beat of silence passed while a myriad of emotions flitted across her face, and Jimin observed all of them with disjointed victory.

“Oh yeah,” She finally nodded, but her expression had settled on dejected and her shoulders slumped a little more tiredly than before, “you’re _ nothing _ like him.” And suddenly it didn’t feel so much like a victory.

Everything was a bit of a blur after that.

Jimin remembered drowning in her words and then the wine, storming away when it was clear she had won, even though it felt like they’d both lost. He snatched his hands away from Taehyung who kept trying to hold them and ignored Won Shik’s calls from across the room as he tried to keep both sides viable, but Agust…

Agust’s gentle fingers kept a loose grip on the back of his shirt and Jimin allowed it because five pouches later, he was drowning and Agust kept his head above water just enough to breathe.

“Maybe we should find you a different body for your first time.” Jimin vaguely registered Taehyung ask Agust hours later, “One that’s less..._ conflicted _.” The three of them sat around the fire away from the rest of the party-goers, Jimin slumping against Agust’s shoulder without realizing it.

“He’s not conflicted.” The Earthling snorted in reply as he took a swig of brandy, “On the contrary, he knows exactly what he wants.” Jimin heard Taehyung scoff and get up to move to his other side. A moment later there were fingers in his hair, and warmth on his face, and he almost didn’t catch Agust mumble, “He just hates himself for it.”


	4. Truth

“Alright, that’s enough for tonight, Twinkle.” Solar sang from on top of the shuttle, startling Jimin so bad that he smacked his head against the underbelly of the ship. Annoyed and now with a lump he had to explained, he crawled back out from under it and yelled,

“What do you mean, _ ‘that’s enough’ _? You were just getting to the part I don’t remember!” From where he laid on his back beneath the ship, he saw her legs pull up over the lip, and then poke her pink head over the side, shooting him a suspicious look.

“You don’t remember leaving Mars?” Her voice took on a doubtful tone, one he didn’t appreciate. It wasn’t like he would gain anything from pretending. Maybe she thought it was some sort of test, that he was trying to see if she was lying to him or not.

“No!” He snapped, and the look on her face crumpled even more.

“Your friend never told you?” 

“My friend?” Jimin wondered before scoffing, “Do you mean Taehyung? Because obviously, he didn’t--”

“No no,” She shook her head, long pink strands reaching towards him, “not Tae--_ Bae _.” Jimin pulled himself all the way out and got to his feet. 

“Yongbae?” Being a little closer now, he squinted up at her, wondering where she was going with this. “Why would he know?” Her lips pressed into a thin line, and a little crease appeared between her eyes. She looked distressed, but Jimin wasn’t really sure why. He still wasn’t entirely convinced he could trust her, but so far she hadn’t given him a reason not to. 

“Maybe you should ask him.” She said, ducking back out of sight. He heard her crawl across the roof of the ship, clunking ungracefully, maybe cursing a little bit, but he wasn’t going to give up that easy, not when she was trying to involve his best friend.

“No, Solar, don’t leave me hanging like this!” He tracked her around the shuttle, blocking her from getting down on the other side. She shot him a nasty look before crawling back to the dorsal and planting herself where he couldn’t see her. 

“You need to talk to him first!” She yelled and refused to come down until he promised he would. 

That was the only reason he was riding the lift down to _ Gia Gai _ with Yongbae the next day for lunch. It was just the two of them, Won Shik having already made plans with the Dragon, and Jongin taking one look at Jimin and knowing he wanted to avoid this particular conversation. It occurred to him that maybe this was what Jongin had been talking about when he said Yongbae felt guilty--that he might know something about Jimin’s disappearance that he never told anyone. The very idea sat rancid if Jimin's stomach. He had known Yongbae since the minute they were born; grew up together, shared everything together, knew each other, understood each other. And Yongbae knew-- _ he knew _ how badly Jimin wanted to remember, so the possibility that he was hiding something, something _ important _made Jimin's palms sweat as they descended. 

The doors slid open to level 84 and Jimin glanced up without thinking, realizing he was waiting to see Taehyung's face on the other side and was disappointed when he didn't. 

"This was a good idea, Min!" Yongbae grinned, hopping out of the elevator, "I was craving noodles and we haven't had these in forever."

_ 'Since that day,' _ Jimin wanted to say. He knew because Jongin had told him how vehemently Yongbae refused to ever go again. Before, his friend's loyalty would have made him feel safe and loved, but...but Yongbae felt _ guilty _. Jongin could tell and Solar had told him so. Yongbae, his best friend, knew something that he hadn't told anybody, not even Jimin, and that had all that love and safety fizzling away, leaving just dread. 

He had been planning to wait until they were seated, had composed a ridiculous speech in his head, but watching the older boy traipse forward like nothing was wrong like things were finally back to normal when they couldn't be further from it--Jimin couldn't wait. 

“Bae can I...I _ need _to ask you something.” He stopped in the middle of the aisle, the looming chasm of the aperture open on his left, the drowning din of the air units humming in the background. Yongbae stopped and turned to face him, casual and familiar as the day they escaped their nanny sims to descend as far down into the aperture as they dared as children.

“What’s up, man?” 

When Jimin was eight he fell out of one of the trees Topside and hurt his elbow. He cried and cried, refusing to let anyone touch him because it hurt so bad. But Yongbae had shushed him, grabbed the back of his neck and pressed their foreheads together. _ 'Did it work?' _ he asked. When Jimin looked up at him, bewildered and tearful, Yongbae beamed, _ 'I just took all your pain. Did it work?' _ And the funny thing was-- _ yeah, _ it had. Yongbae always knew how to fix it, whatever it was: scraped elbows, failed tests, screaming fathers--Yongbae had been Jimin’s beacon of infallible security since he was born, so this sinking feeling in his stomach, this accusation that other people had planted in his mind like a seed...It made Jimin want to toss himself down the chasm for doubting his best friend. 

But even as casual and familiar as Yongbae had been since Jimin returned, there was always a ripple across his face, a tension behind his eyes that nobody ever commented on. His smiles were genuine but tight, and even as he tried so hard to make Jimin comfortable again, it was like Mrs. De had said--he was waiting. 

“What happened at the party in H-3?” Jimin blurted. The lines of Yongbae's face were more familiar to him than his own mother's, so he could spot every transition; first, it was confusion, bleeding into fear, and finally resting on carefully blank. 

“What do you mean, _ ‘what happened’ _?” He asked, gripping the straps of his bag so tight Jimin could see the shape of his white knuckles through the skin.

“I can’t remember anything after getting drunk, but you were there." The words he'd kept bottled up in his head poured out, "How did the party end? Did I leave with you?” _ 'Did I leave with Agust?' _ he wanted to add but didn't.

“I..." Yongbae rocked back and forth on his heels as if he couldn't decide which direction to go, to stay or flee. "I don’t want to talk about it, Min.” Jimin stepped towards him and Bae's feet decided on the latter. He spun and power walked down the aisle, but before he could get very far, Jimin caught up and grabbed his arm. 

There was no putting this back now, no pushing it down and ignoring it. It wasn’t going to go away. He had to know--at first for Yongbae, then for Mrs. De, then for Agust, but now, now it was for him. _ He _had to know. 

“Why not? Yongbae, please!” 

“It doesn’t matter, just forget about it!” The older boy snapped and wrenched his arm away, hiding his flinch when Jimin gritted his teeth. Yongbae had been protecting him his whole life, and he was protecting him from something now. Solar said Taehyung had left him behind to protect him too, and Jimin was abruptly so done with hiding behind his friends. 

“I have forgotten about it!" He screamed, stopping nearly every other Martian on level 84 in their tracks, "That’s the problem!” He could practically hear their judgments when they recognized who he was. _ 'It's the Governor's son again', 'Another cry for attention from the boy on the mountaintop?', 'Why didn't he just stay gone?' _. But he pushed their eyes as far back in his peripherals as they would go. He didn't want to care about them anymore, not when he knew there were other people out there whose opinions actually mattered to him. Yongbae on the other hand panicked. He flew back to Jimin and pulled him into a side alcove between two dwellings, out of the public eye. 

"Have you lost your mind?" He hissed, pressing Jimin back further so no one could see him. 

"Yes, if you haven't noticed, I have!" He snapped back, shoving his friend away. He didn't mean to put so much force behind it though, and Yongbae's back hit the wall on the other side with an audible thump. 

The two of them blinked at each other for a moment, panting, angry, gearing up for whatever was about to happen. Jimin was _ ready _, he was going to get his answers. Yongbae couldn't keep him in the dark forever, and if he tried he would--

Bae's face shattered and every ounce of mad leached out of Jimin's body.

"Can’t we just go back to the way things were?” His friend hiccuped, “Can’t we just eat noodles—"

"Bae I can’t—” Jimin wheezed, a vice-like a fist grabbing his throat, “I don’t think things will _ ever _be like they were. Not until I learn the truth." The honesty of it was...refreshing, to be honest. He was so tired of all the make-believe, people tiptoeing around him, nobody even daring to whisper about what happened, and this bubble of ignorance they wrapped him in to keep him safe. He was tired of being safe, of being in the dark. He wanted to know, and he didn't even care if it was going to hurt! He wanted to be an Icarus, fly as close to the sun as he could, and ignore the possibility that the fall would kill him.

The thing about honesty though was that you had to be ready for it, and Yongbae was not. It blindsided him, flanked him so hard he sank to the floor, sliding down the wall with a distraught drag, and pressed his fingers into his eye sockets to try and stop them from leaking. Jimin swallowed, and shakily overlooked the stinging in his knees as he knelt down between his friend’s legs and shushed him. 

"You’ll hate me." Bae coughed, and refused to let Jimin pull his hands away, "You’ll hate me and I can’t lose you again."

"I won’t. I swear, I won’t." He said sternly, using the voice he knew made Yongbae laugh because he said Jimin resembled a ferocious kitten when he used it. But nobody laughed this time.

"It’s my fault, it’s all my fault." 

"No, _ shhh _, none of this is your fault and I could never hate you." Jimin soothed carding his fingers through his friend's hair, but Yongbae didn't react, he just let out a sob that was much too loud for the tiny alley. Jimin’s heart broke at how torn his friend was. It made him want to demand to know what the hell Bae could possibly know that made him so upset, but instead, he did the only thing he could think of. He grabbed the back of his friend's neck and pressed their foreheads together. 

"Did it work?" He said in a thick voice, hoping he could keep it together, "I just took all your pain. Did it work?"

"Min..." Yongbae whispered, finally dragging his fingers down his face, and Jimin grabbed them and squeezed tight. His voice was laced with pain, but also a little bit of wonder, and Jimin thought maybe Bae forgot how much he loved him. "I let him take you." 

"What?" Jimin choked, and fresh tears fell down the older boy's cheeks. 

"I told Agust to take you." 

⟢⟡⟣

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Yongbae’s voice was suddenly in his ear, “Wake up!” Jimin jolted awake in the bottom of H-3, pressed into Agust’s side. Drowsily, he wondered why the Earthling was letting him snuggle up and drool on him, but he didn’t get the chance to ask, because Yongbae was tugging him away. “The guards are on their way for a quarantine check ordered by the Governor! _ We have to scatter _!” He shouted into the room and if Jimin had been sober, he might have found it funny how things went from a comfortable party to complete chaos in less than a second. Pouches were tossed, lawn chairs were let loose to hover like debris, the fire was thankfully extinguished, and someone scooped him up like a ragdoll.

“_ Jupiter _, why did you let him drink so much?” Yongbae snapped at Agust as he and Taehyung followed him down a side maintenance shaft. They were flanked by another group or two, it was important for them to get to the checkpoint together. There were bound to be stragglers left behind to be caught by the guards.

“He got into a fight with his dad,” Taehyung offered, even though Jimin hadn’t told them about it, and he wanted to point that out, but he was pressed against Yongbae’s back and the fact that he couldn’t feel the sway from side to side was messing with his stomach. Yongbae skidded to a stop and gave Taehyung a hard look before glancing over his shoulder at Jimin, figuring he was too drunk to protest. He let everyone else run passed before he stepped up to the Deimo and asked,

“About what?”

Taehyung matched his intensity pound for pound, nodding to Yongbae like all he had to do was confirm what he was already thinking, “Something important.”

“That must be why the Governor sent guards. _ Fuck _!” He hissed, taking a beat to think. After a moment he looked back to Taehyung and Agust, “He can’t go home, not like this.”

“Take him home with you,” Agust said, but Yongbae shook his head.

“My dwelling will be the first place they’ll look.” Yongbae stepped backward until he was against the wall and then gently lowered Jimin off his back, letting him slump against the metal shaft, then he rounded back on Agust, “I know you’re an Earthling and we have shit, but can you do me this one solid? Take him with you.”

“What! No, we can’t--” Agust started to say, but Taehyung beat him to the punch.

“Absolutely! Jiminie will be safe with us!” The Earthling whipped his head around to glare at his purple-haired friend.

“_ Taehyung _!”

“Don’t worry _ Agust _,” Taehyung sneered his name, and it made him glower right back, “everything will be fine!”

“I get it,” Yongbae added, gesturing between the two, “everyone knows you and Jimin aren’t best friends, but just this once, try to understand, his dad…” He trailed off, and no one felt the need to finish. It didn’t make sense why they would know how his dad treated him, but if they knew enough, knew that it was important, it was enough for Yongbae.

“We understand,” Taehyung assured him, bending down and pulling Jimin onto his back, but Yongbae took it a step further.

“I need to hear _ you _ say it, that you’ll take care of him.” He pointed at Agust and refused to move even when the distant sound of marching mag-boots met their ears. It took a minute or two, but Agust finally sighed through his nose, long and suffering.

“I’ll take care of him.”

⟢⟡⟣

“Figured you’d be out here.” 

Humans lived on Mars. Science was advancing beyond anything they ever could have imagined, so surely there had to be something with the capability of melting Jimin down until he was a puddle, next to nothing between the blades of genetically engineered grass blanketed over the Topside. He was sprawled out, star fished under a towering Pine, tracing his eyes over the maze of interlocking glass panels that made up the dome. He didn’t know how long he’d been there, but it was apparently long enough for Reem to have to search for him. Luckily for both of them, she knew all of his secrets. Well...used to know. 

Jimin tilted his head back to peer at her upside down. In the chilled evening light, she was dressed in a maroon Kurta over wide, patterned palazzo pants, her hair tangling in her ornamental gold earrings. 

“How long have you been sulking?” She asked lightly while she kicked off her heels and dropped down next to him. 

“‘M not sulking.” He murmured, shutting his eyes because he didn’t want to see the look she would shoot him. He wasn’t sulking--he _ wasn’t _. It was just a lot. People had to get that, right? All of this was a lot.

“Yongbae called me.” She tried again, and in the back of his head, he wondered why she was trying at all. Reem wasn’t exactly affectionate, and that was probably the reason they worked well together in their twisted situation. She wasn’t really interested in him, he wasn’t really interested in her. Still, if Yongbae called her, that meant that he was really worried. His two people--those that were arguably his--they didn’t associate. Reem didn’t hang out with Yongbae, and he didn’t ask how she was after a visit. They kept themselves apart without even asking like they knew he would want them to. It would feel too much like worlds colliding if they did. 

“Kid’s a mess, thinks he broke you.” She continued, running her fingers through the grass and letting the blades tickle her palms. 

“I’m fine.” He croaked, and _ wow _that was unconvincing. Reem was intelligent, there was no way she didn’t notice how he tilted his head away from her so she wouldn’t see the wetness in his eyes. She didn’t say anything.

“Yeah well, you might be but he’s not. He wanted me to check and see if you were still mad.”

“I’m not mad!” He snapped, but there was much more force behind it than necessary. Reem didn’t flinch even as he mumbled out an apology. “I’m not mad at him. It wasn't his fault.” 

“From what he told me, it definitely was.” 

“He told you?” Jimin blinked over at her. Reem was forever carefully composed, nothing ever phased her, not an arranged marriage, not her abusive future father in law, not having to go back and forth between his world and her moon every few weeks. She took everything in stride and with grace, and he was infinitely jealous. Even now, knowing this secret bit of information, she didn’t look even the tiniest bit bothered. 

“That he let that Earthling carry you off to _ Jupiter _knows where? Yes, he bawled over the comm for nearly twenty minutes. I think I fell asleep somewhere in the middle. Did anything interesting happen after someone unleashed the chairs?” 

Despite wanting to continue to feel like shit, Jimin snorted, and Reem smirked in victory. 

“No,” He sighed, scooting close enough so that he could fiddle with the beaded edge of her long skirt, “nothing interesting.” 

Yongbae’s confession, despite being pretty unexpected, didn’t affect Jimin all that much. It was another piece of the puzzle, the next link in a long chain of missing links. Yongbae thought he would be distraught, thought he would feel betrayed, but in reality, Jimin was more moved by how he had tried to protect him than anything else. Nobody knew why the Governor had sent those troops down there, but Jimin had a pretty good idea, and it started with his father dragging his mother away from the dining table by her upper arm and ended with another person Jimin cared about being hurt because of him. 

“Do you think I’m a Spark?” He whispered after a long stretch of silence because at this point he’d asked everyone else. Everyone but the person who could actually give him a straight answer. 

“Sparks aren’t real,” Reem responded immediately, making Jimin pout. 

“But if they were?”

“They’re not--”

“_ Reeeem… _” He whined and could feel her roll her eyes even though he couldn’t see her face from how he was pressed into the ground. 

“Do I think you’re a Spark? No. Because they’re not real? Yes. But also--” She stopped him from cutting in with a stern finger to the cheek, “Because I know you.”

“But how can you tell for sure?” He muttered, scooting even closer until he could press his face into her knee. The silk of her Kurta was soft over his skin and he closed his eyes, relaxing into the smell of her jasmine perfume. “I don’t even feel like me.” 

“Who do you feel like then?” She asked, and must have been able to feel how his brows pinched together, because she added, “If you don’t feel like you, what do you feel like?” 

“I don’t know. Like...like space debris.” He swallowed thickly, “like the trash you dump before going on a long journey. Deadweight.” He felt her hand gently pet his head as he fisted her silk dress. “How else am I supposed to feel? I was--_ We were _ gone for so long and then, we’re just... _ back _ . With no explanation, no memories. Just this _ giant gaping hole _ in my head, in my heart. I don’t know how to feel, how to be. I'm like a completely new person shoved into an older version of myself. Downgraded, made of junk parts, shoved together by someone who forgot what I actually looked like and was making it up as they go. Like garbage, like--shit.” He choked up, “I feel like shit.”

Reem was quiet for a long time, letting him catch his breath as he tried not to ruin her clothes with his tears. She just kept scratching his scalp, knowing that he liked it, knowing that it soothed him. They very rarely touched but she understood why he constantly ran his fingers through his hair. The contact was grounding in a way, feeling all of his edges, outlining his borders. All he had to care about was from his skin in, and that made things much less overwhelming. 

“I chose you, ya know.” Reem eventually said when Jimin had calmed himself down enough. “My father probably wanted me to have some sort of responsibility for it so that he could use it against me later, but he let me pick. I mean, I was eight years old, and all I got were pictures, but...you stood out.” 

“Why?” He croaked, and heard her snicker but let it slide. 

“Because in every picture, you were holding someone’s hand.” She gently uncurled his fingers from the silk of her dress and replaced it with her own. “Your mom’s or Bae’s, I never saw the other person. But even at eight years old, I could tell who was kind and who was not. And you, Park Jimin, are the kindest.” She squeezed his hand extra tight and he squeezed back. Reem was not a shareer, she was not emotional. So maybe it felt nice that she was showing her heart right after he showed his. Maybe it was nice that she knew he needed that. “You accepted me at face value, never once asking for anything more. You are so kind, and that is how I know you are not a Spark.” She moved her other hand through his hair one more time before he finally pulled back and looked at her.

“But if I’m _ not _ a Spark, that means I’m--” _ Trash _, he wanted to say. If he didn’t have an excuse, then he was thrown back out to space like--

“You’re just lost.” She read his mind and banished the thought before he could speak it into existence, “And being lost doesn’t mean you don’t have a home. It just means that maybe home has moved.” 

⟢⟡⟣

A week past and he didn’t go back to see Solar. Not because he didn’t want to hear the rest of the story, but because he wanted to try—just for a little while—see if he could do it Yongbae’s way—just go back to normal like none of it had happened. He even laid down ground rules for himself…although they were mostly about not going to see Solar, and not trying to check up on his investigation. Instead, he hung out with Yongbae at every opportunity, inviting him down for noodles with Jongin and offering to go back to Helix with Won Shik.

He played his part flawlessly, pretending everything was fine, but by the end of the week, he felt even hollower than before. The giant gaping hole felt like it was only getting bigger the longer he pretended it wasn’t there. He could toe around it, hop from one side to the other, but it stretched every time he had to fake a smile or act like he had no idea why people were treating him differently.

So he made a concession: Agust, he could go see Agust. He was a healthy middle ground, there but not, involved but not. But even though the Earthling’s face was a familiar comfort, Jimin had to put more effort into not thinking about what Solar had said about him--that he was a Spark.

The hospital room looked the same, flowers all kept in pristine condition, the heart monitor turned down low, but still on just in case. The boy in the bed had lost weight but looked just like the Agust from his story, the one who threw pouches and let Jimin drool on him. He grabbed his usual chair and pulled it up alongside the bed like he usually did, settling down to take some of the weight off. Before he could get too comfortable though, the door slid open again and he felt the need to jump up. If it had been Mrs. De it would have been okay, she’d seen him here often enough, but it wasn’t. It was—

“He looks so different.”

It wasn't like he was upset at seeing Solar. On the contrary, he felt a weird and completely involuntary sense of relief when her face lit up the room. It was the fact that she was here—in Agust’s room. It was that feeling of his worlds clashing like when Reem and Yongbae were in the same room. Solar and Agust didn’t belong in the same room either. He hopped up from the chair so fast he thought it would topple over its back legs, but Solar wasn’t phased as he dashed towards her. Solar was never phased by anything. “In your memory, he seems daunting, but now...not so much.” Her costume today wasn’t that much different than the outlandish clothes she usually wore, but for a different reason. Instead of colors or patterns or weird trinkets that matched her hair or eyes, she wore a grey plaid jumper under a plain black trench. The cut made her look severe in a business way like she was topside to see to her billion-dollar industry instead of to just bother him. 

He was tired of all this contrast, his brain hurt, and so she made it as far as the end of the bed before he caught her and pushed her back a few steps. She barely looked at him.

“What are you doing here?” He hissed and pushed again, but she was deceptively strong, she was deceptively everything.

“You weren’t coming down anymore, I got worried.” She pinned him in place with her puppy dog eyes, big and pink and maybe even sparkling in the right light. He was momentarily blinded.

“I’m fine! It’s fine, but you can’t be here--”

“Did you talk to your friend?” She spoke over him and then very casually redirected the pressure he was putting on her shoulders by sidestepping, nearly tripping him. Jimin let out an _ ‘oomph’ _as he caught himself as she tiptoed further around the bed, her gaze fixed on Agust’s still form.

“Yes.” Jimin gave up. Hadn’t he learned at the beginning that there was no sense in fighting her on anything? She was magical or whatever...she was a pain in the ass or whatever… “But none of it was his fault.”

“I never said it was.” She snorted, peering at the holo monitors that listed Agust’s vitals with great interest. ”If we want to assign blame it would really be Amethyst--”

“Solar, you can’t be here,” Jimin said a bit more gravely, a bit more resigned. Different enough from a command that she finally turned to give him her attention. 

“Why? Because I don’t belong on your mountain?” Her trench coat swished like a cape, making her seem intimidating and a lot more like the creatures in her story. 

“That’s not it—” He backtracked but she took a step towards him and then another, her pink gaze razor sharp.

“Why haven’t you been coming?”

“Please, we—”

“Spit it out, Twinkle!” She snapped, and Jimin had to stop. It had been quite a while since she was so forceful with him. It made him wonder if something had changed if he had messed up some plan by delaying his return. His ever-persistent doubt that this was all a rouse came back with full force. “Why haven’t you been coming?” She asked again, and so he told her the truth:

“Because it wasn’t Yongbaes fault and I had to at least try to give him his life back!” The confession hung in the air between the heart monitor beeps, and it changed something. Jimin really couldn’t tell you exactly what, but Solar softened. Emotionally, physically even. He felt like whatever glamour she’d come in with slowly drifted away, and that’s when he realized--Solar was just as wary of his not coming as he was of going. 

“You were trying to comfort your friend,” She said gently, “I understand. But your story is important, you can’t stop seeking the truth just to bury your head in the sand.” She came around the bed to where he was standing and reached out for his hand. “The longing won’t go away, the gut feelings won’t fade. Whoever you became out there is who you are meant to be and the universe is telling me you cannot revert.”

The universe, huh? Well at this point Jimin didn’t really put much stock in the universe or its opinion. All he truly wanted to know what where he and Agust had gone for those all those months. But the universe had given him Solar, con-woman or not, and he promised himself he would get her off Mars, even if she couldn’t help him in the end. 

“Look, I’ll come by later, okay? But you really can’t be here--” He conceded, trying to usher her towards the door. It wasn’t because Solar didn’t belong topside, it was because this was Agust’s room, and he was barely welcome there himself. She let him steer her back towards the glass, throwing one last look at the boy in the bed, but before he could mash his finger on the button to open the door, it whooshed open suddenly, revealing a startled Mrs. De in the frame. She wore a nice pencil skirt and a blouse with a large bow right at the collar. With how many loops it sported, it looked like it was growing right out of her neck like a flower. 

“Jimin?” She said, and then her eyes fell on Solar, and maybe the position they were in wasn’t quite so professional, him right against her back, she tucked neatly under his chin. “Oh, you brought a friend.” Mrs. De intoned, and Jimin watched as the mask she usually wore when showed up slid back on. That was a terrible sign.

“Mrs. De!” He hiccuped, glancing between the two women, “Uhhh, this is…is—”

“Kim Yongsun, ma’am. I’m an exchange student from Deimos.” Solar reacted immediately, putting on a kind smile and offering a bow instead of a handshake, which seemed to startle Mrs. De for just a moment before she regained her composure. Gracefully she sidestepped them and swept into the room, subtly putting herself between them and Agust. It wasn’t lost on Jimin how tentative their relationship was, and he knew she wasn’t above biting his head off to protect her son and their reputation. He just hoped she would give him a chance to explain before--

“Did you know my son?” She directed at Solar, her tone flat and borderline defensive. 

“No, ma’am, I’ve never had the pleasure.” She responded easily, and he envied her calmness because his hands were starting to sweat. “But Jimin wanted us to meet since he says Agust will be up and about in no time.” Mrs. De whipped around to look at Jimin with something akin to surprise and hope, and he felt a bit like choking. Because she was waiting too. 

“On his own time of course.” She replied cordially, “It was always impossible to get Agust to do anything he didn’t want to do.” Solar nodded as if she understood completely, and the conversation dipped into a bit of a lull. Now was a great time to leave, Jimin thought, and he opened his mouth to say so, but before he could, Solar pointed to the flowers on the table that Mrs. De painstakingly took care of.

“Your modified Lilium Candidum is beautiful.” She grinned and it sounded like the first real thing she’d said since telling Jimin the universe wanted to work things out like an apologetic ex. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen healthy plant life.” She wondered over and gently thumbed at the waxy leaves, and it seemed she must have found the ‘off’ button because Mrs. De relaxed. 

“Oh, why thank you.” She said, joining her at the flowers, “I had heard that Deimos was behind on their Topside construction, but they should really invest in that. It’s imperative in the acclimation process. You are not astronauts anymore, you are Deimo now.” 

“You couldn’t be more right!” Solar beamed. The two of them getting along was really more than he could take, so he quickly blurted,

“We should really get going, Sol—I mean, Yongsun.”

“Sure!” She replied, and if her grin wasn’t sly, he would swear-- “It was very nice to meet the both of you, Mrs. De.” She bowed again to Mrs. De who returned it and skipped back to where Jimin was waiting. 

“Yes, of course. Have a wonderful day. Jimin, a word?” Mrs. De asked, and he felt like all the blood in his body rushed to his feet. Run, he should really run. But, like a good socialite child, he ushered Solar out into the hallway and closed the door to give them some privacy. 

“Yes, Mrs. De?” He gulped. She’d grabbed the chair he nearly toppled over earlier and sat beside Agust, spine as straight as an arrow, face serious and sharp.

“I would like to think I understand you at least a little bit,” She said, all business, her small hand gripping her son’s, “but if your intention is to parade my child around like some freak show—”

“Please Mrs. De, that’s not it.” He said quickly, almost tiredly, “ I didn’t invite her, she followed me. I would never do that to Agust.” Her mouth pursed into an ever angrier line.

“You told me you weren’t friends.”

“We’re not, but I wanna believe that wherever we went, we watched out for each other.” He wanted to believe that because so far, that’s what everyone had said. He chucked pouches, let Jimin drool on him, and took him in when Yongbae asked him too. “She didn’t mean any harm, she’s just trying to help me.”

Mrs. De squinted, although he could tell she believed him just a little bit, “Help you remember?”

“Yes.”

It took her a moment to answer, but eventually, she sighed “Alright. If it helps.” 

⟢⟡⟣

On level 97 there’s a _ Dosa _stand Jimin had never been to, but he met Solar there upon her request later that day.

“Figured you’d want a break from the ship.” She smiled, even though they both knew he’d just taken a week-long break and it hadn’t helped any. He ate his fried dough in silence, contemplating how to rearrange his schedule to make this a permanent thing when Solar suddenly launched into the story right there at the bar. Jimin sputtered, glancing around frantically. 

“What are you doing?” He hissed, shoving a dosa in her mouth to shut her up. 

“Continuing?” She said through a mouthful of lentils. “Oh relax, Twinkle,” She swallowed. “Nobody here cares about you or what I say.” 

“Are you sure?” He asked even as he eyed the woman folding leaves behind the counter like she was some sort of spy for his father. 

“_ Yes _,” Solar said dramatically before starting again, finally getting to the part he couldn’t remember--making that giant hole just a little smaller. 

⟢⟡⟣

Jimin woke up blood pumping, wide awake, ready to go...only problem was he didn’t know where he was. He knew he was lying in a hard bunk in a small grey room, a desk by his feet and two doors that led to other unknown places. Behind his head was a small porthole window, and when he rolled over on his stomach to look out, he blinked slow and dim.

_ Black _\--a lot of it.

Jimin had only ever been off his planet a few times in his life: a school field trip to Earth to learn about the agro fields, a press tour with his parents while his father was running for Governor. Both were uneventful and not particularly life-changing, but no matter what he was always able to find some celestial body nearby to orient himself; be it Luna, or Earth, or one of the constellations that peppered his sky…

But there was nothing out that window. He couldn’t even spot Alpha Centauri. It was nothing but a deep darkness that only seemed to swallow the faint stars he could see the longer he looked. He pressed his whole face against the glass, thinking it had to be the window, there had to be some film over that stopped him from seeing his red rock, the center of his own personal universe. There was just no way that he was so far from home…

The longer he looked, the more he wanted to panic. Space was not an easy reality, it was not a simple life. If his father had ever succeeded in drilling anything into his brain, it was that in order to survive out here, you had to be tough, and life was never guaranteed. The struggle was real. If he taught Jimin anything, it was that.

So he crawled back from the window before he could spiral and took in the room again. The desk was cluttered with actual paper and writing utensils scribbled all over with math equations. He picked up one of the pieces, marveling at how light it was compared to a holo or comm, before eyeing the first problem; Or at least, what he thought was the first problem. Each line seemed to drift off into the next, connecting the equations in a way that Jimin couldn’t understand. He flipped the page over as his eyes followed the trail of systems, but down towards the bottom, the ink skewed off the page like someone had dragged the tip of their pen across the paper in an uproar. So it wasn’t complete. He turned back to the front and read through the problems again, but still couldn’t make heads or tails of them, so he put it back where he found it.

The door at the end of the bunk led to a small toilet room with a pull out can and small refresher. And small meant teeny tiny. Jimin wasn’t a big guy, but he wasn’t sure he could even fit his whole body in the alcove. Plus the scent of three-week-old algae hit him square in the face and he quickly retreated. He was about to go for the other door, but a nagging feeling in the back of his mind took his gaze right back to the window.

A small knock on the door interrupted his train of thought and he glanced back in time to see it slide open and reveal of all people--_ Taehyung _. He came in grinning, dressed in the same silk getup he’d had on at H-3. His purple hair was messy like he’d run his hands through it a couple of times, but the big change was in his eyes. No longer an ambiguous dark shade, they were as bright purple as his hair.

It took a second, but Jimin was able to recover quick enough to tease, “That’s some mod,” Taehyung’s face tumbled into a frown.

“What is?”

“Your eyes?” Jimin pointed out, it wasn’t like the change was subtle, “Can you change the color to whatever you want?” Taehyung seemed to catch up and his face snapped back into a smile instantly.

“No! I just wore contacts on Mars.” He shoved his hand in the pocket of his slacks and wandered into the room, “The purple freaks people out sometimes.” Jimin didn’t know if freaked out would be an accurate description, but purple certainly wasn’t a shade he saw every day. Even with all their technological advancements, he figured humans were conservative creatures at heart. Mods weren’t widely used, at least not on Mars yet. Taehyung beamed as he plopped himself down on the bunk and folded his legs up under him. Apparently, he was going to stay, and Jimin found that that kind of irritated him.

“So,” He coughed awkwardly, feigning innocence since he believed he had everything figured out, “have you been working for my dad the whole time or…?” He stepped casually back over to the desk and grabbed one of the math papers, just to have something in his hands to fiddle with.

“Your dad?” Taehyung’s smile disappeared again, and Jimin considered that he only had two speeds: hard fast, and hard stop. It’s what made the most sense, especially since he couldn’t really remember how the party ended. But there was no other reason for him to be on a shuttle right now than if his father banished him. 

“The Governor.” He answered the question in Taehyung’s voice, preparing himself to be even more upset if Tae hadn’t put two and two together.

“You’re not making a whole lot of sense. Are you still drunk?”

Jimin sputtered, mildly offended, and slapped the paper back down on the desk with a smack. “Are you or are you _ not _working for the Governor?” There was no hesitation in Taehyung’s voice when he said,

“I am most definitely not.” In fact, there was even a little bit of disgust and Jimin identified with it on a personal level. He thanked Jupiter that even though he hadn’t pursued Taehyung’s friendship, even though it had been thrust upon him quite unorthodoxly, that he’d rolled with it.

But that didn’t explain the matter at hand, like--“Then where are we? And why am I here?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes at those, grabbing his ankles and tilting back on his hips like a kid who was used to entertaining themselves would do.

“Because we promised Yongbae we’d take care of you!” He said like it was obvious. The mention of his best friend brought Jimin to a grinding halt, and he stared out the window again. Was this what Yongbae had in mind when he’d asked?

“Where is he? Why didn’t he just take me with him?” Jimin asked quietly, but somewhere in the back of his memories, he thought he knew the answer.

“He’s fine, he just didn’t want your father to find you at his house, so he asked us to take you instead!” Like he was a damn pet cat, Jimin wanted to grumble, but the situation wouldn’t allow for it. Yongbae had done the smart thing, the careful thing. As much as he took care of Jimin and looked after him, it would have been a serious issue for them if the Governor had found his disgusting son at Yongbae’s house.

Figuring he’d put that _ ‘thank you’ _off for another time, Jimin caught onto the distinction Taehyung kept making. “Wait, who is we?”

“Me and Yoongi!” He hummed.

“Who?”

“Yoongi!” Taehyung unfolded his legs and jumped to his feet, so eternally energetic. “You know, the grumpy, plumpy one, black hair--although it’s not black anymore. He couldn’t help himself. It’s his first time after all.” He danced around the room with his description, and then grinned devilishly about his friend’s antics.

“Now who’s not making any sense?” Jimin scolded, but just like every other time, Taehyung didn’t seem to mind.

“Look Jimine, all you have to know is--” He started but the nickname he’d bestowed upon Jimin felt like a slap to the face at that moment. It was a feminine rendition, because he was cute, because he was small, maybe because he was--

“Don’t call me that.” He barked suddenly and Tae had the courtesy to look surprised.

“But you like it...” Taehyung’s expression slowly morphed into an honest to Jupiter pout, and it made Jimin was to apologize immediately, but he didn’t. In fact,

“No, I don’t,” He continued to lie through his teeth because old habits die hard, and he was still all too used to hiding away any part of himself that could pose potential embarrassment.

“You do though,” Taehyung cocked his head, purple eyes scrutinizing and Jimin felt like he was seeing much more than he should, “but it’s all covered up with shame, and I don’t really get--”

He’d had that inkling before, that Taehyung seemed to know just a little too much, but the fact that he was telling Jimin how he felt and that he was right even when Jimin was lying to his face made whatever comradery they were forming come to a complete halt.

“Okay, get the hell away from me.” He hissed and hopped across the room to put distance between them, “Is there anyone else on this ship? Hello!”

Taehyung had the audacity to look hurt, but Jimin didn’t care. He didn’t know this kid, didn’t know where he was. All he wanted to do was go home, but home…Okay, scratch that--All he wanted to do was find Yongbae and figure out how he was going to get back to his life. But that involved going back to Mars, and right now Jimin wasn’t in control of their heading.

After a moment or two of Taehyung looking like a kicked puppy, the door to the rest of the ship slid open to reveal a sleepy-looking Agust De. Jimin nearly lit up with relief, but Agust barely spared him a glance.

“Taehyung, you had one fucking job.” He slurred, one hand shoved into the pocket of his grey sweats, and the other rubbing at the muscles on the back of his neck like this whole situation was already stressing him out. Taehyung’s face turned sheepish before hopping out of the way so the Earthling could have room.

“Agust!” Jimin didn’t bother hiding the happiness in his tone when seeing his familiar face, but all he got in return was an impassive hand wave and,

“Yeah, yeah, sit down, kid.” He reached over and grabbed the small stool that sat under the desk and rolled it over to beside the bed. Taehyung hopped up onto the desk, on top of the papers and all, and Agust took half a moment to just deadpan at him. So maybe they knew each other better than Jimin had thought. Maybe Taehyung was the reason Agust wasn’t acting like himself anymore. And maybe he was the reason Agust’s hair wasn’t black anymore, it was slate grey, like chrome, and Jimin would be lying to say it didn’t look good on him. He didn’t want to complain about that, but well...

“What’s--” He started to ask, but Agust shook his head,

“I said sit.”

Jimin sat on the edge of the bunk, nervous about how formal this seemed. So Taehyung had been the first string and Agust was what? The ringer? “Look, there’s not really an easy way to do this so we’re gonna go at it straight.” Agust dove in headfirst and Jimin blinked owlishly at him when he didn’t even bother to pause before saying,

“Taehyung and I are what you’d call _ ‘extraterrestrials’. _ You’re aboard our shuttle bound for the _ Oort Cloud _ where we will jump and dock with our primary ship, the _ Bangtan, _ and then possibly head to a space station where Earthlings and Martians are not allowed and usually killed on sight.”

“Ya know,” Jimin murmured, shooting Taehyung a wary glance before leaning towards the Earthling like it would stop the other from hearing, “I wanted to ask yesterday Agust, but are you feeling okay? I mean, you’ve been acting really--”

“Also, I’m not Agust.” He interrupted, holding up a finger like a bright idea, even when his expression never shifted from blank and bored. 

“Yes, you are.” Jimin snorted, rolling his eyes because, hell this was weird. This whole weekend was weird. First Agust De was nice, then he’s caring, now he’s telling jokes (like bad jokes, but teasing nonetheless)?

“Nope. Not.” He shook his head, and Jimin pursed his lips, feeling ridiculous.

“Oooookay Mr. ‘_ Not-Agust-De _’,” He even made bunny quotes because they made him feel less stupid for going along with his terrible gag, “if you’re not him than who are you?” Taehyung chuckled from his perch on the desk, and the sound made Jimin’s stomach do a summersault.

“My name is Yoongi,” Agust said, “and I’m a Spark: a parasitic life form that has taken over his body.”

Jimin facepalmed. “This sure is an elaborate joke. Did Jongin put you up to this? _ Jupiter, _ he’s desperate--”

“Kid, this isn’t a fucking joke.” Agust sighed, but he’d called Jimin _ ‘kid’ _twice now, and he really hated it.

“Prove it.” He snapped, and he didn’t realize that that one challenge would change his life forever. Agust was all too happy to oblige, putting both hands on both knees and closing his eyes. Right in front of him, Jimin watched with growing astoundment as all the veins in Agust’s body began to glow a bright white, starting from the base of his skull, slithering down his arms to his fingers, and ducking under his shirt. The paths even spread up the sides of his neck, across his cheeks, and jutting out from his eye sockets. And then he opened his eyes and Jimin shrieked.

They were neon white, glowing even. It wasn’t a mod, it couldn’t be! He threw himself backward in the bunk until he was pressed up against the metal walls, as far away from the glowing boy as he could get. The longer he tried to make sense of it, the more his brain started to fizzle out, and before long Tae’s voice cut through the static.

“Whoops, that was too much…”

Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the luminous infection receded back to the base of Agust’s skull, and the shine in his eyes dulled to black. The show didn’t seem to do anything to him, no pain or effort, and when he was back to normal, he popped his neck like he was bored.

Jimin was frozen solid, and he didn’t even flinch when Taehyung jumped off the table and came up to wave a hand in front of his face. “I think you broke him.” He pouted, but Agust--_ fuck, Yoongi _\--only snorted.

“What else was I supposed to do? He wanted proof.” He stood up, kicking the stool back to its place under the desk, shoving his hands deep in his pockets again.

“Yeah, but did you have to supernova him on his first go-around?” Taehyung whined and gently pushed on Jimin until he slumped over, in a pliant state of shock.

“I’d like to see him _ prove _ to me he’s a fucking _ human _.” Yoongi snapped, the door behind him sliding open because he was apparently trying to escape.

“How would he even do that?” Taehyung pet Jimin’s hair a few times before tucking the covers over his shoulders and following the Earthling--_ fuck, the Spark _\-- out.

“I don’t know, Tae,” Yoongi sighed just as the door was sliding closed, “but this meat sack seems to think that kid could.”


	5. Smoke

Jimin worked diligently on Solar’s ship for the next few weeks, and it was coming together slowly. At one point, while she was highlighting the embarrassing points of Jimin’s shock at finding out aliens were real, she cut herself off and slapped her hand against the ship’s hull. “Let’s call him, _ Sonyeondan _.” 

“Why?” Jimin flipped up the lid of the helmet that was protecting his eyes from the TIG welding he was doing on the wing. He was eager to get to the part of Solar’s retelling that would explain how the hell he knew how to TIG weld, but he wasn’t about to rush her. 

“Because he’s bulletproof, our little boy scout!” She cooed at the ship, and Jimin chuckled. He tugged off his big gloves and pulled off the face shield. Of course Solar would be one to name her spaceships. It was standard procedure, but Jimin never really considered himself to be creative. If it had been down to him to pick he probably would have just used the serial number stamped beside the airlock door. 

“Is that what it means?” He asked, coming to stand beside her at the nose of the ship. _ ‘He’ _was coming along nicely, and with the amount of work Jimin was putting in, he was proud. 

“Sort of.” She hummed, still stroking the nose as if he were a giant gentle beast, “I coined it! Do you like it?” She turned to him with a hopeful smile, and Jimin liked how eager she was, liked that he could make her smile. Not the fake stuff she used to lure people to the club, but a real smile.

“Sure, what language is that?” He grinned back.

“It’s called _ Jeon-i _.” Something sparked in Jimin’s brain and he bit the inside of his cheek in thought. “Oh, does that sound familiar?” Solar smirked mischievously before sliding around the side of the ship, hand ever-present on the hull, “Well it should cause you were quite good at it.” Jimin’s head shot up and he gaped at her. Even if everything Solar told him turned out to be a lie (which he wasn’t sure how that was possible at this point because he was starting to remember) it wouldn’t have mattered. He loved the version of himself that she described, was desperate for the life of adventure he’d apparently left behind. If there was any part of that adventure he didn’t want to hear...it was why he left in the first place. 

“I learned another language?” He muttered more to himself in awe, but she caught it anyway. 

“Yeah, but honestly one is very unimpressive when talking about all the languages in the galaxy. Namjoon knows like a million.” She chatted away. Namjoon was a new name, a new character in his story. Was it really possible for someone to learn a million languages? 

Jimin wanted to keep going, maybe fix the disaster that was the portside comms panel, but when he glanced at the clock on the workbench, he realized that he would be hard-pressed to get home on time as it was. 

“I think I’m done for today, it’s almost eight.” He said and quickly went to grab his things.

“Jiminie…” Solar’s voice reached him, but he couldn’t see her from behind the ship, “can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” He answered automatically as he cleaned his hands off on a rag and slipped his hoodie back over his head. 

“How can you go home? How can you stand it?” He stalled at her questions and swallowed down the hardball of hate that rose in his throat. She wanted to know how he could stand his father after all he’d said and done, which was fair. Even though Jimin remembered the party and what happened before, most of it was vague and blurry. He didn’t remember the sting of his father’s words or the jab of that girl’s accusations. They’d been lost amidst the cloud of covered memories Taehyung had thrown over his mind like a wet blanket. When Solar tore back the fold and showed him everything that had happened, Jimin was furious. He wanted to go home and punch his father, rescue his mother, free Reem...but then he stopped and thought about his situation. His father had allowed him to come back into the house after everything that had happened, probably hoping Jimin wouldn’t recall the fight or the follow-up, and Jimin, even though it made him nauseous, went with it. He pretended as if he and his father had never fought, had never come to a head, had never threatened to jettison him off the moon. He pretended like he still saw his father as the Governor and not for what he was. The joke was on Seungmin though, because Jimin hated the Governor too, and that distinction in his own little world was enough to sate his anger. 

He spotted Solar peeking curiously from behind the rear of the ship, apparently thinking hiding would make Jimin comfortable enough to answer, and he beckoned her out.

“I can do it because growing up, I never had any advantages. Now, I know so much more than him. Makes me feel...powerful.” It didn’t feel like a good enough explanation, but the word was right--powerful. Jimin felt like at any moment, he could shatter his father’s world with his knowledge, just like he had done to Jimin at the dining room table. 

“You can’t tell him about us, you know that? Right?” She muttered, clasping her hands in front of her nervously.

“I know.” He sighed because he did know. It was a nice dream, to have a proverbial WMD hiding in his mind, but Jimin knew that he could never tell anybody, especially not the Governor. It would endanger everyone, not just he, Solar, or the friends he’d yet to meet. Solar’s stories, if heard by someone else, would tip the balance of the universe, because what were humans...if not conquerors? 

“Mmmm.” She hummed but dropped it hopefully because she believed him. “Eat something yummy for me, kay?” She said instead, and Jimin ruffled her pink hair with his dirty hands. 

“Whatever you say.” 

⟢⟡⟣

By the time he got home, Jimin was bone-tired, he smelled like rocket fuel, and he was smeared with metal, dust, and sweat--he needed a shower. He told his mother as such when she stopped him on his way down the hallway and praised him for working so hard on his _ ‘school project’ _ (Of course it was a lame excuse, but you gotta work with what you got). It was in the middle of that shower that one of the maids knocked on his quarters and told him his presence was requested in the lounge as soon as possible. He quickly finished up and threw on some comfy clothes, not thinking he was supposed to look presentable this late and in his own home. 

He was of course wrong. 

When he entered the lounge, which doubled as his mother’s entertaining parlor, Jimin was surprised to find both his parents sitting on one couch facing the Captain of police, Moonbyul. She sat right on the edge of the cushion, her legs crossed primly, dressed in a midnight black pinstripe suit. Her hair was loose and long and black, framing her pale face hauntingly, and when she looked up at Jimin’s entrance, her equally black eyes bored into his head, making him freeze in the middle of the room. 

“Ahh, Jimin, there you are sweetie,” His mother sang, noting his stiff posture and eye contact, “Come sit down. Captain Moonbyul has come to check on you.” 

“Check on me?” He murmured, still caught up in her piercing gaze. Had she found out about Taehyung? Was she here to tell his parents there was no school project? Did she realize he was starting to remember? 

Questions stormed around in his head as he took a seat beside his mother. His father was on the other end of the couch, and although his posture was open and polite, Jimin could tell he didn’t like the Captain being in his home. 

“It’s good to see you again, Jimin.” Moonbyul started off, a fake smile plastered on her face that didn’t reach her eyes. “I just came by to check and see how everything was going.” Even though he knew this song and dance by heart, it was her gaze that was throwing Jimin off the most, and he had to swallow past his dry mouth before answering,

“It’s going okay.” 

“As good as can be expected, right?” She joked, and both his parents immediately chuckled, like someone had held up a sign to tell them how to react. 

“I guess.” He mumbled, wanting this to be over so he could just go to bed. 

“Has your investigation turned up anything?” His father asked cordially, although there was a slight tick to his eye. 

“We’re still looking, chasing down every possible lead.” She answered robotically. His mother squirmed. 

“But it’s been almost a month.” She fussed. Jimin noticed the Captain’s gaze turn a little darker at his mother.

“Well ma’am, it doesn’t help when neither of our victims can give statements.” The way she said _ ‘victim’ _made it sound like she was insinuating he and Agust were suspects as well, which in the grand scheme of things was technically true, and Jimin wondered fearfully if she knew that. 

“Are you blaming my son?” The Governor asked, and even though his tone was polite, Jimin shrank at his implication. He didn’t believe for one second that his father was defending him, just his image. Moonbyul quickly backtracked, but she didn’t seem nearly as flustered as Jimin felt. For a moment, she reminded him of Yoongi, eternally nonplussed, and it was the first time that Jimin had ever thought about him as Yoongi and not as Agust’s body double. 

“No at all, sir,” She replied smoothly, “I believe Jimin to be innocent, and will do everything in my power to find out what happened to him.” That seemed to suit the beast of his father’s protectiveness over his reputation, and he gave her a small nod,

“Thank you.” 

The four of them sat in awkward silence for a long moment, gauging the others’ intentions, but finally, Moonbyul asked, “Would it be alright if I had a moment alone with him?” She directed the question to his mother, obviously seeing that she was the more compassionate of the two. It annoyed Jimin that she didn’t ask _ him _if it was okay as if he didn’t have a say in the matter, but he remembered quickly that he didn’t. 

“What for?” His mother seemed skeptical. Being married to Seungmin had blessed her with a precise bullshit meter, but Moonbyul shrugged,

“Just a few follow up questions, nothing important.”

“Important enough for you to come all the way here.” His father commented and the two of them locked eyes for a heated moment. 

“Plus I wanted to give him some advice.”

Nobody said anything as another awkward silence stretched, and Jimin wished he could throw his two cents in since it was about him after all, but he knew better than to interrupt when his father was trying to command someone with his gaze. To his credit, it usually worked. He was as charismatic as he was crazy, so no matter what, he usually got what he wanted. The Captain, however, didn’t seem like either of his father’s personalities affected her, and when he finally realized that, Seungmin muttered,

“Alright.” He shot Jimin a glowering look before he and his mother left the room, the door sliding shut on him and the Captain with daunting swiftness. 

The lounge was a low ceilinged but wide room, with white tiles on the top and floor. When Jimin was little, he liked to pretend he was stuck between two chess boards, and he would imagine he was a knight, moving from space to space while his opponents hung from the ceiling to counter him. Nowadays, however, the room felt claustrophobic. The only good thing about it was that the walls were crude, the natural rock formations of Mars; milky white silicone and silver magnesium, inlaid with ribbons of black iron. 

The couches they sat on were sleek and for ambiance, more than comfort, and Jimin sat as still as possible while Moonbyul tried to eat him with her eyes. He just wanted to get this over with, just wanted to go to bed, so he cleared his throat and asked,

“What did you want to ask--”

“You were just with her.” She whispered, but he heard the hostility in her voice loud and clear. 

“I’m sorry?” He squeaked.

“I can still smell her on you.” The air in the room felt as if it were condensing all around them, squeezing tight, and Jimin rubbed his eyes because all her edges were starting to blur. He quickly shook his head to clear the image, but when he looked again, she was smoking. Black spindly billows of smoke rolled off the edges of her that he couldn’t find, and Jimin pressed himself into the back of his uncomfortable couch, mouth hanging open as Moobyul stood, eyes lulling black. 

“I-I don’t know what you’re--” He stuttered, but as if time skipped, she was at her couch one moment, and then she was leaning over him the next, a hand pressed into the couch, caging him in with her fury and fumes. 

“You think she’s telling you the truth?” The Captain snarled right into his air, her voice distorted beyond human; all the lines of her blurring into the next, making her seem like a column of vicious smoke, “You think she wouldn't sell your soul in a second if it meant getting what she wants?” Even the whites of her teeth were stained with black like she’d eaten charcoal, and Jimin pressed further back into the cushion.

“What--”

“Whatever stories she’s feeding you, none of them are real.” Her voice reverberated in his head as he tried to put more distance between them but she followed, invading his space as much as possible without actually touching him. “It’s what she does, she gets inside your head, makes you believe you’re special, makes you think there’s nothing in the world better than being with her, until all that’s left in your head is pink pink pink --but then she dumps you back in the gutter where she found you, citing cosmic intervention. You think you know Yongsun? You think you know anything? You’re just a _ human _, caught up in something you can’t possibly understand.” 

_ Human _ , he was just a human, she spat. He wasn’t sure why, but the very notion that he was _ ‘just’ _anything made him growl, low and animalistic, wanting to contradict everything she’d assumed about him. Her eyes widened and she pulled back, but his time he followed her until they were standing chest to chest, and his anger matched hers. 

“I don’t know anyone named Yongsun, and I don’t know what you’re talking about, so get the fuck out.” He pointed to the door, hand weaving through the black smoke. But just as suddenly as it appeared, it dissipated until she was back to normal... just the Captain. She stared at him for several long minutes, while he insisted she fuck right on outta there, but eventually, she flopped back down on her couch, while he glowered. 

“I showed you my true form and you didn’t even bat an eye.” She huffed a humorless laugh, shaking her head in disbelief, “Think I solved your case.” 

“I doubt you’re the scariest thing I’ve seen.” He fired back, even though he had no actual way of knowing if that were true or not. Solar hadn’t gotten to that point in the story yet. But the presence of an extraterrestrial-- as Yoongi had called them --right there in his parlor made Jimin question a lot about his current understanding of how his world worked. 

“How many of you are there here?” He asked after a moment, wondering just how close he’d been to the truth at the beginning when he ran to her office for the security footage.

“How many of us are on Mars?” She asked, seeming to recover from her earlier disbelief. “More than you’d be comfortable knowing about.” She draped an arm over the back of the couch and crossed her legs, but now that he’d seen it, Jimin couldn’t unsee the blur about her, whether it was her eyelashes or the pinstripes on her suit. She was a walking illusion, a smokescreen trying to hold human form, and as much as he should have been scared of her...he was curious. 

“What are you?” He asked, but she cut him a quick glare.

“Why do you keep going to see her?” She countered. 

“Why did you lie about Taehyung.” She’d answer something at some point, and he didn’t want to lose whatever footing he’d gained from standing up to her. 

“Taehyung?” She made a face, “The exchange student?” 

Jimin lit up like a firework, wondering how she could possibly not know. “You still think he’s an exchange student?” He pressed his hands to his face in exasperation, “Taehyung was one of the ones who took us!”

“No…” Her face pinched in confusion, “You guys were taken by Sparks. What I don’t get,” She stood, accusing him with her black eyes alone, “is how you’re still you, and Agust De is a shell. That’s not how they usually do things.” 

It seemed that Jimin was at the constant disadvantage of always having to sort through things later, because what the hell did she mean by _ ‘usually do things’_? But of course, he realized, if the human’s police captain wasn’t a human, who was to say what the extraterrestrials couldn’t get away with? He couldn’t process that right now though, he still had an angry fume lady in front of him and if there was anything he wanted more than to hear Solar’s stories, it was to hear quick facts from a smoke demoness. 

“Yoongi was the only Spark.” He clarified, thinking of poor Agust laying comatose in his hospital bed, his mother waiting patiently for her son who would never wake up. 

“Quit giving me bits and pieces, Park,” Moonbyul snapped, “and give me the full picture. What the hell happened?” 

“Solar once told me that Gems are sometimes compelled to stick with people--” He began as a way of explanation, but halfway through the statement, the Captain hissed so savagely that he flinched.

_ “Bullshit.” _

“That’s what happened to Yoongi, Taehyung found him and stayed with him, I guess. At least that's how she described it.” He finished, wondering if she understood. Surely if she knew enough to hate Solar, she would understand the relationship between his two captors. 

“Leave her out of this." She growled instead. "She doesn’t have the power to wipe your memories or bring them back, so quit wasting my time.” 

“It was Taehyung who did it.” Jimin glowered, “He made sure I wouldn’t remember when...when I left or...whatever happened. Solar said she could read his work.”

“She’s using her power to interpret his power? Interesting.” Moonbyul tapped her finger against her chin in thought, and Jimin couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer. It must be true, what they say? Curiosity kills...

“Why are you calling her Yongsun?” He did vaguely remember her calling herself that when they stumbled upon Mrs. De, but he’d forgotten about it, thinking she just made it up on the spot.

“Because that’s her name.” Moonbyul’s voice took on a more solid tone, not as grating as when she was mad or fake as when she was speaking with his parents. “I told you, she’s not above lying to get what she wants. Now, which Gem in Taehyung?” It sounded as if she were giving a lecture and she wanted him to know that she knew more than him, would always know more than him.

“Why?” He asked suspiciously.

“I need to put him in the system.” 

“What does that mean?”

“Look,” She seemed annoyed but quickly put on her best manners, finally happy they were getting somewhere with this interrogation, “Gems are astronomical fuck-ups. They have too much power, they are too dangerous to be left alone.”

“Left alone?” Jimin scoffed, and quickly put two and two together. “Is that why Solar is trapped here? Because she’s too dangerous and you won’t leave her alone?” What was it that she’d said? She thought she saw something that wasn’t there? Perhaps it was with Moonbyul, although that was quickly becoming obvious.

“She is…” The Captain bit her bottom lip, a highly uncharacteristic thing for her to do in Jimin’s opinion, and a meekness rose up in her cheeks. It wasn’t a blush, because well, it was black, but perhaps it was her equivalent? “She is precious and there are a thousand different sects in this stinking galaxy that would burn whole planets just to use her ability.” Jimin blinked, not at all expecting an answer like that. Just a minute ago, Moonbyul was cursing her very existence and now Solar is precious? 

“You imprisoned her!” No matter what, even if he was being duped and everyone was lying to him, and this was all an elaborate joke to ruin his life--the look on Solar’s face when she told him she felt trapped was real. Maybe he couldn’t trust her or anything else, but that at least was true. 

“I am keeping her safe! I have no other choice--” The Captain started to retort, but the door to the parlor slid open with a _ ‘whoosh’_. 

“Is everything alright in here?” 

He and Moonbyul quickly parted far enough to see Jimin’s mother take a tentative step in. Her expression was anxious, not knowing whether or not it was her place to step in, but worrying just the same. Jimin loved her for it, just as much as it annoyed him. He wished she was more confident, wished the things he’d learned from her hadn’t been about hiding and had been about love. But as it was, he gently bowed to her and gave her a reassuring smile. 

“Yes, of course.” Moonbyul replied automatically, “Jimin was just telling me about his project and how he’s adjusting after the incident. It’s very impressive.” His mother looked between the two of them uncertainty, but he could tell by the look in her eye that she suspected more than she would let on. 

“Thank you.” She answered for him since the Captain had paid him a compliment he blatantly ignored. 

“Well, I won’t take up any more of your time.” Moonbyul nodded, taking her leave. She followed Jimin’s mother to the front door, all the while shooting him glances. “Come see me in the _Shelves_ next time you’re topside.” She told Jimin at the door, and he knew it was more of an order than the request she made it sound like. 

“I’ll be busy.” He said, clipped, and before she could do anything like burst into vapor, he slid the door shut with the click of a button. 

“Well? What did she say?” Jimin’s mother buzzed behind him as he tried to retreat to his room. He needed time to come up with a lie after all. 

“Uhh, just...she was hoping I was doing okay and...apologized that it was taking so long.” He blurted.

“As she should!” His mother harumphed with the ferocity of a kitten. “Making you wait so long for closure!” 

“I’m sure it’s a difficult investigation.” He shrugged, and even though he felt the overwhelming urge to throw Moonbyul under the bus, it was very likely that it would condemn him as well, so he tried his best.

“If only Agust would wake up.” She said offhand, and Jimin stopped to give her a long look. The way she gazed back at him was reminiscent of the way Mrs. De looked at her son; waiting, waiting, waiting. He wanted to ask her what she could possibly be waiting for, what else he could have done, what he should have done...but the longer he looked and the longer she looked back, he realized that maybe she wasn’t waiting on anything specific, just waiting for something to change. For anything to change. 

“You should go see Mrs. De,” Jimin said quietly, and just the suggestion had his mother’s eyes widening and an excuse ready at the tip of her tongue. “I think you guys are a lot alike.” He added before she could say no, taking his out for bed. He’d never asked her, too afraid of the answer, but Jimin wondered how she felt when he didn’t come home that night. Was she scared for him, or was she relieved? Was she mad he’d made a scene at all, or just maybe was he the change she’d waiting for all along...and he’d suddenly backtracked from it? He would add those to the long list of questions he wanted to be answered, and figured the best way to help everyone would be to help himself and find out exactly what had happened nine months ago. 

⟢⟡⟣

Jimin’s shuttle down the aperture the next day seemed longer than the rest. He was nervous to see Solar, to tell her about who’d paid him a visit and about what she said. And he was nervous because he didn’t want to hear the part of the story that involved him freaking out. It was embarrassing, and he would have liked to believe that in this made-up world, he was a bit better at handling his emotions. He hiked his bag higher on his shoulder as he drug his feet all the way to the bay, and wasn’t surprised when he slid the big doors open and found Solar puttering about. She wore high-waisted, wide-bottomed pants the color of cotton candy, and a slim red bralette that glittered in the poor lighting. Her long pink hair swished in a high ponytail, and when she heard him come in from her spot at the nose, she grinned at him big and wide...but the look slowly faded into confusion, and then horror. 

It was surprising how fast her emotions changed, and Jimin didn’t really understand what could have affected her so. He even glanced around, wondering if he was wearing something wrong, or if someone had followed him. But as far as he could tell, it was just the two of them, and Solar, his friend, had tears in her eyes. 

“Solar--?” 

“Why do you smell like smoke?” A tear streaked down her face, and he must have looked astonished because her expression--_ no, her whole being _\--crumpled to the ground. 

It took a long time for her to calm down, and what felt like even longer for him to stumble through an explanation. 

“I guess I’m not surprised she came for you,” Solar mumbled into the crook of his neck. He’d scooped her up and crammed the both of them into the pilot chair of _ Sonyeondan_, squished under the steering column. Jimin wasn’t a big guy, but Solar was somehow still so much smaller than him. _ Frail_, his brain supplied and he shook the thought away. 

“She wanted to know about Tae.” He told her and she choked out a wave of fresh tears, sticky against the collar of his shirt. 

“This is my fault.”

“No, Solar--” He squeezed her tighter.

“She was just barely a whisper when I found her,” Solar mumbled, and he felt her lips on his skin rather than heard her words. It was all out of his realm, and he knew that. Whatever was going on, or had happened between the two women wasn’t his business. But still... “Just a tendril of life, but I felt the tug so strong it knocked the wind out of me.”

“The tug?”

“When fate tells us to stay.” She adjusted in his lap, but kept her head down, hiding from him. “I felt it with Moon just like Amethyst felt it with Yoongi.” 

“So what happened?” He wanted to know everything, had so many questions. He honestly wanted to skip the whole theatrical bit and just take the bullet points, but whenever he found the request on the tip of his tongue, it always faded. If he really thought about it, he wanted to hear every single bit about his adventure, wanted to remember it even more but that was beside the point. He was frustratingly curious, but at the same time, he wanted Solar to take her time with the story, because it was his, and he wanted it to be right.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged into his chest, thinking it over in her head before giving him an explanation. “I suppose she evolved beyond me. Didn’t need me anymore, but when I tried to leave, she wouldn’t allow it.” Jimin wanted to ask how the hell that was supposed to work, but it didn’t seem like Solar knew either. She called it _ 'fate' _as if it were a person giving her orders, dictating where she was supposed to go. “I felt the tug with you too, you know.” She added off hand.

“Really?”

“Mhmm, right here.” She pointed to her chest, her heart. “Was little, not whiplash-like Moon was, but...careful. You took my hand while everyone else yanked on my chain.” It made him a little shy, that kind of confession, but then she stretched out like some sort of cat and yawned big and long. Apparently being so sad was just exhausting. “Can we just stay like this today? I don’t wanna work.”

Jimin snorted and pinched her side. “Pretty sure I do all the work.” She yelped and smacked him, “Alright alright. We can stay.”

“Do you want to hear about you panicking about aliens?” She sprang back into him, curling up nice and tight against his chest. She was such a spring. 

“Not really.” He mumbled.

“So after that…”

“After that.” 

Jimin stared at the ceiling of his room more bored than scared. The shock had all but worn off in the time it took them to reach the _ Oort Cloud_. According to his com, they were going on two weeks of travel, which was at standard speed, but the vastness of space was always too big for him to comprehend. 

He was free to move about the small ship, and while he hadn’t had the courage the first few days, he ventured out once his fear turned to stale boredom. 

His room led into a small main space with a travel-sized kitchen to the right and an extensive coms panel to the left. The cockpit was open and dipped just slightly--

“Hold on,” Jimin stopped Solar’s story, and when she saw recognition on his face, she flashed him a wry smile. “You’re describing our ship.” He twisted around to look at the two doors that led to the quarters behind him, at the understocked kitchenette and shattered coms panel. 

“Just because they’re the same design doesn’t mean they’re the same ship, twinkle.” She scoffed but still grinned. 

“You’re telling me we escaped on this thing?” He reeled back to her, and as he did she flicked his forehead. 

“Something like this thing. And be nice, he's not a thing, he’s my son.” 

“He’s a ship, Solar.” 

“Don’t listen to him, buddy.” She patted the steering column that was digging into his knees. “I know you’re special.” 

_ “Solar…”_

⟢⟡⟣

It was...blue. Jimin looked up at Taehyung with his purple hair and purple eyes, and then turned to Agu--_Yoongi,_ _Yoongi_. Taehyung was beaming, Yoongi was unimpressed, and it...it was _blue_. 

“What...is it?” He managed to ask before he gagged. The little container Taehyung had put before him was supposed to be food, something to curb the gnawing hunger he felt when he’d woken up, but it was unlike anything he’d seen before. 

“It’s an algae protein from Europa! I picked up a few packs while we were there.” Taehyung was absolutely shining, so pleased, making Jimin want to shrink even further back into himself. He hadn’t panicked as hard as he thought he would be he was definitely freaked out. Yoongi’s little light show had damaged his reality so badly that he’d gone into a bit of a shock, only waking up when Taehyung dragged him out of bed to make him eat something. 

Maybe it helped that he knew them (sort of). He knew Agust’s face, even if it wasn’t him (or maybe because it wasn't him?). Whatever--none of it made sense. The only thing he knew for certain was that he was a long way from home, and he was safer because of it. Perhaps that’s what curbed the fear in the end. 

“He’s an asshole, Jiminie,” Taehyung said suddenly, and Jimin glanced up from his can of blue goo in surprise. “Don’t waste your brainpower on him.” 

“What?” He asked owlishly, looking to Agu--Yoongi for explanation, even though he had no basis for that habit. 

“Kid reads minds.” Yoongi shrugged when he saw the question on Jimin’s face, stabbing his utensils through his own blue goo. “You get used to it.” 

“R-Reads minds!?” Jimin’s spoon went flying as he jumped to his feet, stumbling back over his little stool, eyes trained on Taehyung’s very innocent looking expression. He pouted at Jimin’s reaction, rounding the table to follow. 

“It’s not like that, Jiminie!” 

“Have you been doing it the whole time?” Jimin’s back hit the wall, it was a very small shuttle after all, and he braced up against it, that fear coming back in full force. 

“Well, yeah,” Taehyung winced, “I can’t help it! It’s my purpose!” 

“Your purpose ?” Jimin was breathing hard, which was ridiculous, but he couldn’t get himself to calm down. Apparently, he’d been a bit more on edge than he thought, one step from falling right over the cliff again. 

“Come on, sit down. I’ll explain, promise.” Taehyung beckoned like Jimin was a scared animal, gently and patiently. He patted Jimin’s little stool and went back to take his own, waiting for him to join. 

Tentatively, Jimin shuffled forward again, ready to sprint back to his little bunk at a moment’s notice should anything else happen. Then again, what else could happen?

“Oh, plenty!” Taehyung chimed, and Jimin ran for it. 

“Jiminie! I’m _sorry_! I told you I can’t help it!” Taehyung knocked on the refresher, pleading with Jimin who had locked himself inside. 

“Leave my brain alone!” He yelled back, bracing against the door. 

“It’s not my fault you think louder than you talk!” 

“You’re not supposed to hear the thinking! That’s the point!” 

Suddenly there was a more insistent pounding, making Jimin bounce off the latch. 

“Get the fuck out! He has to pee!” Yoongi hollered. 

“_Jiog_, hyung. Why did you wait so long? You’re doing the dance!” Taehyung chuckled, and Jimin heard the distinct sound of someone slapping him upside the head. 

“Shut up! I am not used to having a bladder!” 

“Wait, _ he _ has to pee?” Jimin asked, throwing the tiny door open. “You said _ ‘he’ _ not _ ‘I’. _ Is Agust still in there?” Before he could ask anything else, Yoongi snatched his arm and pulled him out, replacing him and slamming the door shut. A little dazed, he glanced over at Taehyung who responded by smiling even wider at him. 

“Come eat your goo, hyung, and I’ll answer all your questions.” He gestured back towards the table. Jimin raised an eyebrow. Hyung? What was a hyung? “Even the ones you don’t ask.” Taehyung winked.

The three of them were seated again, Taehyung and Yoongi on one side, Jimin on the other, eyeing them wearily. 

“So--” Taehyung went to start but Jimin jumped in. 

“Don’t…” He held up both hands and Taehyung stopped talking, “...read my mind.” Taehyung snorted but didn’t say anything, looking towards Yoongi. They must have done this before because the speech he got next sounded rehearsed. 

“He doesn’t so much read your mind as he hears your thoughts,” Yoongi stated. Jimin didn’t understand the difference and said as much. “Reading your mind implies he puts in effort. He doesn’t. He just hears it, as if you were speaking.” 

“You can’t not?” Jimin summed, a bit more curious than intruded upon now. 

“I can’t not.” Taehyung nodded, “but I promise I won’t tell anyone what you’re thinking.” He held up his right hand and made an _ ‘X’ _ motion over his mouth. Not the usual promise sign, and not really the most reassuring, but Jimin figured it was better than nothing. 

“Okay…” he said slowly, letting his hands drop back down to his lap. He was stuck somewhere between being frightened and being relieved, cycling through each one every other minute. 

“Now ask your second question.” Taehyung urged, and while Jimin wanted to give him a dirty look for directing his question session, he really did want to know. 

“Agust.” He looked to Yoongi who had his hands folded on the table, eyeing his cuticles.

“He’s still around…” Yoongi said without looking up, “for now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jimin snapped.

“When a spark takes a body, the host goes through a regression. At first, there are two people in here, but over time, the submissive entity fades.”

It took a moment, but eventually, Jimin realized, “You’re killing him.” 

“Yes.” It was said without feeling, completely detached.

“But--”

“It’s not like you two were friends.” Yoongi sneered, looking annoyed by Jimin’s naive idealism, “I don’t have to read minds to know that. What do you care?”

“I don’t have to like him to not want him to die. He has a family, a home.” Jimin shot back.

“Neither of which you were about to have anymore, thanks to someone like him.” Yoongi acted casual about sinking that knife into his heart, leaning on his elbow and propping his head up. It took Jimin a couple of moments to recover his breath, and when he did, it wasn’t as effective.

“It...it wasn’t Agust’s fault.” He stumbled over his comeback, but it lacked heat and they all knew it. 

“But it could have been.” Yoongi yawned, “He ran in the same circles as your piece of shit father, thought like him, smelled like him. It was only a matter of time.” 

“We’re just glad we were here when it happened.” Taehyung tacked on, and Jimin figured he was supposed to be grateful. 

“Let’s start at the top.” Yoongi proposed, and the two of them adjusted themselves as if they were about to give a lecture, “As you know, I’m a Spark. What you don’t know is that Sparks can take over any form, no matter the species... except for someone like Taehyung.” He pointed to the purple-haired fool beside him who was grinning like mad, “He’s called a Gem, and Gems are special. They have a connection to the very fabric of reality that often directs them into certain situations. We met several revolutions ago, and he’s been a pain in my appendage ever since.” Yoongi said, and Jimin could only gape at him. Did he say, the fabric of _ reality_? 

“But Sparks are like...the smartest beings in the universe--” Taehyung started to brag, and the two of them descended into a banter Jimin couldn’t even hope to comprehend.

“Cause we’re not beings--” Yoongi snapped,

“Whatever.” Taehyung flapped his hands in the older’s direction, clearly not intimidated by his temper, “They are all intelligent, entering other species to learn about them and stuff. Yoongi has had some weird hosts in the past, but he wanted a human this time.” 

“I’d heard they were a challenge,” He shrugged, “but so far it hasn’t been anything unusually uncomfortable.”

“Except having a bladder.” 

“Most species have a form of waste removal, although they don’t usually couple it with their reproductive system--”

“_Jupiter_, please. Stop talking.” Jimin cried, wanting to plant his hands over his ears to get them to shut up for half a second. They both looked at him like he was a child they would have to accommodate for, and it was as unnerving as anything else. 

“It’s a lot, we know. But we’ll answer any questions you have!” Taehyung urged, but Jimin could barely put two words together, let alone formulate questions. He was in over his head, or there was the distinct possibility that he was dreaming. He caught Taehyung snorting under his breath at that thought, and it made him want to brain himself against the table right then and there. But if what Yoongi had said was true, he wouldn’t have to. 

“You said we’re headed towards the...the _ Oort Cloud _ and that I’ll probably be killed?” It was half a question, half a wish, and that made Taehyung frown. 

“Oh, Yoogni was exaggerating--”

“Sol is one of the biggest Deadlands in the galaxy, and Humans from Sol are the literal scum of the universe.” Yoongi cut him off in his usual dry manner. Jimin’s eyebrows shot up in alarm, and Taehyung whined, 

“_Hyuuung _.”

“There’s a reason they haven’t discovered extraterrestrial life.” Yoongi continued without missing a beat, directing a large portion of his frightening intensity right at Jimin. “We don’t want you to. You’re like _bakwibeolle-- _”

“An insect from Foriir 9 that can’t be killed,” Taehyung whispered.

“--plus your planet is destined for other things--”

“_You _ are in a Human right now.” Jimin snapped, “You are _ Human_. Don’t call us cockroaches!” 

“Hold on, Jiminie.” Taehyung held up a finger like he could pause the whole conversation, “Just because Yoongi is in a Human right now doesn’t make him human, and just because you are a human doesn’t mean you are a...whatever it is you said. You’re an exception, Jimin. But we have a plan to make sure you won’t get killed.” 

“Why am I an exception?” Jimin asked, but the two just kept right ongoing. 

“He’s not going to fool anyone. He doesn’t know the first thing about the universe--” Yoongi was saying while Taehyung announced:

“You’re gonna be a Spark too! Or at least that’s what we’re gonna tell the crew of the Bangtan.”

All Jimin could do was watch as the two of them bickered, perfectly comfortable with the shattering of his whole universe...well, he guessed, it was actually their universe, wasn’t it? So there was life beyond what they knew in Sol, but those beings didn’t want anything to do with Humans. Thinking back through their history, it was true they weren’t the most...friendly species, especially with each other. It made at least a little bit of sense to him why they wouldn't want to include a whole system that liked to abuse each other. But now was not the time for rational thought. Now was the time for exhaustion and accepting defeat. 

“Why bother trying to hide me?” Jimin asked, and the two of them quickly turned back to him, “Why not just let them eat me or whatever?” He shrugged, pretty sure he could resign himself to being eaten alive as long as it was whole. 

“No one is going to eat you!” Taehyung gasped, clearly offended, “We’re not primitive! Plus you taste awful.” He tacked on, and Jimin really did let him face fall to the table. It was cold on his forehead, and muffled his words as he said,

“Just take me back.” 

“What?” Taehyung squeaked, “To Mars? You want to go back to that terrible rock?”

“Please just take me back. This is too much, I don’t want...it’s too much.” 

“Let’s take a break.” Yoongi proposed, and Jimin heard him get up from his little stool to throw his blue goo in the recycler. “We have two weeks to reach the cloud. Maybe he’ll come to terms with it by then.” 

“Come to terms?” Jimin lifted his head to watch the grey-haired man--_man? _\--trudge back towards the pilot seat. “What do you mean?”

“We can’t actually go back, Jiminie.” The look on Taehyung’s face was regretful, as he fiddled with his fingers on the table. “We snatched the two sons of Mars’ leadership. We’re criminals.” 


	6. Ring

There was a majesty to space that Jimin grasped as a child but seemed to have forgotten somewhere underground. It was the scale of things, how on Mars, he wasn’t so insignificant as he was aboard the small craft drawing upon a phenomenon that he couldn’t see either side of. They passed Jupiter and Neptune by with little complaint, and then Pluto with Taehyung and Yoongi bickering about whether or not it was actually a planet before going further than Jimin realized was even possible. He stopped being afraid after week one, stopped thinking blue goo was bad after week two. 

Taehyung, despite stumbling a few times, put a great deal of effort into making it seem like he couldn’t hear every little thing going on in Jimin’s mind, and once he coached himself through an episode, Jimin figured if Tae was trying, so should he. Yoongi...well honestly, Yoongi was a lot like Agust (the real actual Agust, not the fake one from the party (who never came back unfortunately)). They were both kinda grumpy and snapped when they didn’t have to, but Taehyung wasn’t dismayed by it, and by extension, Jimin learned not to be either. In fact, it was rather endearing how Taehyung skipped around the Spark, reminding him of things regarding his new body (still really fucking weird), and doting after him while he grumbled and scribbled notes on paper. Those math equations Jimin had found in the bunk? They were Yoongi’s. 

“This problem makes no sense,” Jimin said one evening, sitting at the desk with the door to the main area open. Taehyung was in the galley area looking like he was pretending to cook while Yoongi sat in the pilot seat, poking buttons Jimin had no interest in figuring out. Yoongi had looked back with a small look of alarm before it faded into his regular nonplussed expression once more.

“It wouldn’t to you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jimin grumbled. The plan to pass Jimin off as a Spark wasn’t exactly going very well? Mainly because their resident Spark didn’t like the plan and he seemed able to withstand Taehyung’s puppy dog eyes. 

“That’s how Sparks write their language!” Taehyung chimed, to which Yoongi grumbled like he was upset the Gem had given away his secret. 

“Write their language?” Jimin wondered aloud, looking back at the problems in a new light. He’d definitely heard of codes of this type while in school, arithmetic cyphers that spelled out messages to only those who could solve them. With that in mind, he tried to go through the problem again, but in the end was just as lost as before. 

“Sparks are made of energy, they don’t have mouths or faces, so they don’t really communicate in the traditional sense. But when they inhabit hosts they have to record their findings, right?” Taehyung pranced over and flopped onto the bunk.

“I guess…”

“So they do it in the most recognized way possible. It’s kind of like, what's it called...oh! Binary. They talk in numbers.” 

“So what you’re telling me,” Jimin suddenly mused, spinning on the little stool to face the Gem. And he didn’t dare speak the words out loud, but it was the first time he ever used Taehyung’s ability to his advantage, ‘These are like Yoongi’s coded diary pages?’ Taehyung laughed so loud all of the sudden that even Jimin was a little surprised. But it was funny, and the fact that they shared a little secret made something loosen the tight ball of nerves that had made its home in his chest. 

He wasn’t afraid of them and he ate the blue goo, but there was still a lot he didn’t know; like what would happen to Agust, or why Yoongi seemed to really dislike him now. He learned that the bunk was the only room in the little ship, and Taehyung usually slept in it, seeing as Yoongi wasn’t really familiar with the concept. But the Gem had given it up for the first few days while Jimin adjusted. Eventually though, in the middle of the night (or at least he figured it was the night) Jimin, half asleep, felt something big and warm crawl into the bunk with him. He’d frozen on the spot, only half aware that whatever it was wasn’t going to eat him, but then he felt Taehyung’s breathy chuckle on the back of his neck and he relaxed. He dreamt of Yongbae and how they used to camp out in a blanket fort they constructed in his bedroom, all tangled together between pillows and sheets and stuffed animals. They were just kids, but Bae’s house was one of the only places Jimin was ever allowed to be just a kid. Being squished by Taehyung somehow made him feel that safe. Like he could be just a kid again. 

The next morning (space time is dumb), he was woken up abruptly by another, smaller and colder body falling on top of the two of them, smashing an elbow against his nose and a knee to his groin. Jimin flailed, hit Taehyung, dislodged Yoongi’s melting form and ended up on the floor with a thud. 

“What the hell!” He growled before he was able to open his eyes, rubbing his nose and choosing to ignore the fact that the Spark had kneed a morning semi, which is probably why he practically convulsed out of bed. 

“Oh dear,” Taehyung hummed, sounding completely awake despite being woken up so rudely. When Jimin did manage to glare up at the body snatcher, he was a little taken aback at how ashen his face looked. Almost the same shade as his hair, and really not in a good way. “I told you it would be delicate.”

“Feel...like...shit.” Yoongi mumbled into the thin mattress, still halfway draped over Taehyung’s hip. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Jimin asked, wondering if he should be worried. If Yoongi died, would Agust die too, or would he be free?

“His last host was far more durable than this frail homosapien form.” Tae sighed, nudging a limp Yoongi off him. “He’s having trouble adjusting. But they would both definitely die.” He added that last bit to Jimin’s unasked question, just in case, Jimin figured, he tried to kill Yoongi to set Agust free. With that knowledge, and a begrudging sense of humanity, Jimin crawled back over to the bed and placed a tentative hand on his forehead. It was ice cold. 

“Jupiter, why is he so--” 

“So like, when a human goes into a coma all their functions kinda shut down. Like a ship, they go into ‘power-save’ mode. This body is doing the same thing.” Tae explained, and Jimin wasn’t too sure he liked him comparing Agust to a ship, like he was voluntarily toting an alien across the universe. 

“I really need him to not die.” 

“Oh, no Yoongi won’t--”

“Not Yoongi,” Jimin shook his head. Usually Taehyung would have understood, but it was the same face, and that could be confusing. “Agust. I need him.” 

“You really don’t.” Yoongi grumbled finally, shifting just enough to glare at Jimin. “We went over this already.”

“You have no right to tell me what I do and don’t need.” He snapped back. “You’re a fucking thief, and if Agust never comes back you’ll be a murderer.” Yoongi didn’t even have the decency to make much of a facial expression as he intoned--

“You say that as if anyone will care.” 

“Why you--!” Jimin was about to jump right out of his skin, right down this throat. But before he could leap onto the bed and maybe smother the Spark with a pillow, Tae put out both hands, looking like he wanted to surrender before Jimin was the one committing murder. 

“We picked him for a reason, Jimin.”

“What possible reason!” He yelled, climbing to his feet because he didn’t feel like he could take this sitting down. He wasn’t afraid anymore, and he could eat the blue goo, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t confused or still worried. He needed Agust to be okay because he was the last shred of home Jimin had. It didn’t matter if he was an asshole, or like Yoongi said, he would have eventually turned into someone like Jimin’s father. He was a piece of Mars, when Mars was a galaxy away.

“He had the least amount of meaningful relationships. Even the workers who mined the shafts under your mountain had more to live for than this boy.” 

“That doesn’t matter!” Jimin cried, ready to tear his hair out. “You get that, don’t you? It doesn’t matter if everyone hated him! He still deserves--” 

“Park Jimin.” 

Somehow, for some reason, the voice that came out of Yoongi’s mouth wasn’t his. It was Agust. There was no scientific explanation as to how Jimin could tell the difference, but he could and it stopped him in his tracks. Yoongi was still lying prone on the bed, but his face was twisted around just enough to look at him and his gaze felt a bit like fire. It felt like it used to when it would skim the back of his neck in class, when they locked eyes over diplomatic dinners and glowered just as openly as their fathers. Agust always made him feel like he would burst into flames any minute, and it was back. That burning, that intensity. Was it ironic that the loathing in his gaze was how Jimin knew it was him? 

“Agust?” He said aloud, letting every bit of twisted hope bleed into it. Maybe he’d overpowered Yoongi, maybe the possession was only temporary, maybe Jimin had been just as convincing as he had been in his head, maybe--

“Shut the fuck up, Park Jimin.” The earthling said. 

Fire was so controversial in space, an all consuming greedy element that never gave back any of what it took. Those lazy balls of glowing embers at the parties in H-3 were about as close as he’d ever been. But Jimin understood the warmth, the hazy blanket you could feel glowing over the fuzz on your arms. He knew what it felt like to be buried in it, so wrapped up in its zeal that when its suddenly gone--

Extinguished; That was the only way to explain how the space between them felt. And when his eyes refocused on Jimin, it was Yoongi entirely. Not a trace of heat, not a lick of human left. 

Yes, it certainly was ironic. 

“Jiminie!” Taehyung shouted from the refresher a few hours (sols) later. He and Yoongi were sharing the cockpit area, although avoiding any confrontation since Agust’s resurface. Apparently it had rattled Yoongi as much as it had halted Jimin. Both deciding they’d rather not, they pinned their lively discussion on murder and never went back to it. The Gem’s exclamation wasn’t really uncharacteristic, and Jimin had developed a habit of keeping track of his thoughts. What had he been thinking about just now? The blue goo was almost gone, he didn’t recognize any of the constellations now that they were passed his known planetary system, Yoongi was clicking so many buttons and nothing was changing so why was he--

“You’re bored!” Taehyung burst out of the refresher, pants barely hanging on his hips as he dashed into the main area. If Jimin could describe Taehyung to someone, Reem maybe, he would say that although it seems like Taehyung should look disheveled, he somehow always looks perfect. Straight off a holo ad perfect. A messy bedroom scene selling silks, or perfume laced with pheromones. Something sexy, something effortless, the epitome of ‘I woke up like this’. 

Unfortunately, as all of this passed through Jimin’s mind, Taehyung’s devilish grin spread so wide he thought his jaw might crack. 

“Oh I like that,” Tae purred, stopping just long enough to strike a pose. “I woke up like this.” 

“Why the fuck do I let you follow me around the galaxy?” Yoongi muttered from the pilot’s chair and Jimin chuckled. 

“Because you love me!” Taehyung announced proudly, reaching around the clunky helm to wrap his long arms around the Spark’s shoulders. He planted a big wet kiss on the side of Yoongi’s neck and Jimin was afraid the Spark would elbow him right in the face. He didn’t. Although Yoongi didn’t look thrilled, he let Tae have his way until he released him and came for Jimin next. The Gem flung himself over Jimin’s lap and looped his arms around his neck, sighing contently. He had a bony butt for someone so attractive, and Tae snorted at that particular thought before diving into whatever it was he wanted to go on about at that particular moment. 

“You’re bored!” 

“I mean, well...yeah. It’s been two weeks, and the ship is very small.” Jimin shrugged as much as he could with full size dude in his lap. 

“You could ask you know…” Tae sing-songed, and Jimin gave him a warning side eye. 

“You mean, ask about Gems and why their name is so cliché?” He taunted, causing Taehyung to gasp and slap a hand over where Jimin assumed his heart was. 

“Jiminie, I am offended!” 

“No, I’m pretty sure you’re just heavy.” He grunted and shoved, dislodging the purple eyed man child from his lap. Taehyung laughed as he settled between the two cockpit seats, apparently perfectly content to sit on the floor in his pretty silks. 

“We use to have other names; _Celestials, Baeteoli, the Zai_.” From over his arm rest, Jimin heard his tone go wistful, and debated asking for the full story. “There are only twelve of us left now.” Tae supplied and Jimin could only blink. _Twelve_? As in like, his race, his people, his civilization had been reduced to a group smaller than Jimin’s home room class? “There was a war,” Tae sighed, “We didn’t lose, but we didn’t win.” 

“Who were you fighting?” He asked, just kind of assuming Taehyung wouldn’t actually be offended by the question. 

“Everyone.” Was not the answer Jimin was expecting. He glanced down at Taehyung to gauge his reaction, but by his clear expression, he didn’t seem upset. 

“Even Yoongi?” Jimin tried to joke, at least make light of a little of it, but the Spark in the pilot’s seat only shrugged. 

“Wasn’t there. His society outdates mine.” 

“Hold on.” Jimin balked, “You’re telling me there were purple eyed noodle eaters before there were ‘energy beings’?” He put in bunny quotes which made the Gem snort. 

“We’re a bit of an anomaly,” He said proudly, while Yoongi only sighed. It took a moment of prolonged eye contact on Jimina’s part but Yoongi eventually grumbled,

“Sparks took longer to develop due to the pressure on the surface of our home planet being so intense it liquifies pretty much everything.” 

“_Jupiter_, seriously?” Jimin said in awe, but was even more surprised that it earned just a tiny smile from the Spark. 

“Jupiter, exactly.” 

“Wait, you’re from Jupiter?” He asked, and was elated when the Spark nodded. Life on Jupiter! That was so close! Only an asteroid belt away from his home. He wondered how old Yoongi was, had they been born the same year, how were sparks born? With that same enthusiasm, he turned to Taehyung and asked, “What’s your planet called?” The purple haired fiend grinned before putting a finger to his lips and whispering,

“It’s a secret.”

“He means it’s taboo.” Yoongi translated.

“Why?” Jimin wondered. 

“It was the sight of an intergalactic war with beings who devour stars.” He explained while Taehyung hummed along, “Nobody wanted to…to jinx it. That’s not my word. What the fuck is jinx?” The Spark snapped at nobody in general, making Jimin pause his questions.

“Did Agust give you that word?” He asked carefully. They were at a bit of a ceasefire when it came to that, but he supposed he could be civil, at least to find out more information. 

“...yes.” Came Yoongi’s curt reply. He seemed unsettled by it, confused. 

“How long will he be able to give you hints?” Jimin asked and Yoongi’s grumpy face darkened. 

“He’s not supposed to be able to.”

“Oh!” Taehyung suddenly shouted, startling them both. “Ask about them! Ask!” Jimin blinked at him for a moment, trying to figure out what he meant. He could have sworn the only thing in his mind had been Agust, but as soon as he let that concern pass, there were a million others questions he wanted answered. He looked at Yoongi, as if to say ‘We’ll come back to this’, before redirecting his line of questions elsewhere. 

“Your main ship, the--”

“The _Bangtan_!” Tae cheered.

“Are there other Gems?” Jimin wanted to know, which seemed like an understandable question. If there were only twelve left, surely they would stick together. 

“No, we don’t really associate with one another too often. Makes people twitchy if they find more than one of us at a time.” Because of the fabric of reality bit, Jimin assumed, and Taehyung nodded. 

“What about Sparks?” He asked next, because he wasn’t entirely sure if he could handle another body snatcher.

“No, stupid Yoongi gets territorial.” Taehyung whined, to which Yoongi barked,

“It’s called Intellectual Property!” 

Jimin couldn’t help but laugh, if only because it seemed like Yoongi knew it was ridiculous, but that wasn’t going to stop him. When he caught Jimin’s eye, he grumbled out an explanation even though it wasn’t really necessary. “I collaborate with others of my kind from time to time, when it’s relevant, but it’s admittedly...difficult.” He turned back to the control panel like it was infinitely more interesting than their conversation, leaving Taehyung to answer his unspoken questions...which was just a poor decision on Yoongi’s part in hindsight. 

“Because they can’t tell each other apart when they’re in hosts!” He howled, and Yoongi looked like he wanted to melt into the pilot seat. 

“That’s why you wanna pass me off as a Spark?” Jimin pieced together, “Cause other Sparks won’t be able to tell?”

“Brilliant, right? It was my idea.” Taehyung said smugly, and Jimin guessed it made sense. Just that, nothing else. He still didn’t know why they were bothering to hide him, why they were taking him away from Mars when they could have just let him sleep off his hangover in their bunk. He was for sure that this is not what Yongbae had meant when he asked Yoongi to look after him. But even with all those unanswered questions, the biggest one he wanted to know was why Tae had told him he was the exception--what made him so special? 

“Who else is on your crew if not Gems or Sparks?” He rambled on, because 1) he knew Tae was listening intently to the play by play of his thoughts and if he was going to comment on any of them, he would have; and 2) he had more questions. So. Many. Questions. 

“Well, the Captain--stop snickering Yoongi, he likes it when you call him Captain!--He’s a splice. I’ll let you guess what kind.” Taehyung scolded as the Spark began flipping a series of switches. Nothing changed in their flight pattern and Jimin was starting to wonder if he was just doing it because he was bored too. 

“A splice?” Jimin asked. 

“They’re genetically engineered humanoids whose DNA has been mixed with that of a different creature.” 

Jimin sputtered, “That--That’s a thing?!”

“Of course.” Yoongi answered, apparently deeming them worthy to reenter the conversation. “DNA is a very important in galactic society. It’s one of the only things that connect all of us, no matter the race.”

“Is there like royalty? An alien king, or whatever?” Jimin asked.

“Well, there are the Sovereigns, usually the richest citizens in the commonwealth who have the money to ‘keep themselves going’ for as long as they want.” He made bunny quotes around the words, and Jimin wanted to know why that was so important but Taehyung shook his head. 

“I take it none of them are human?” He asked instead.

“On the contrary, the majority of them are humanoid, but none of them are from Sol.” 

“You called Sol something before, the biggest…”

“Deadland.” Yoongi pursed his lips, staring off into the black, and Jimin saw his grip on the steering column tighten. 

“...in the galaxy. What’s that?” 

“We’ll tell you when you’re older.” Taehyung jumped in before he could answer, which made Jimin frown. He marked the question in his head, because Tae had promised to answer everything. Guess there was something more to those Deadlands than he wanted to Jimin to know. “Can I ask a question though?” The Gem added, which successfully drew his attention away. 

“Don’t you know everything already?” Jimin snickered.

“Hardly, I can only hear and feel what you’re feeling at any given time.” Taehyung started climbing back up the side of the seat until he could flop back into Jimin’s lap like a petulant cat, “I want to know about that,” He pointed at Jimin’s throat, or more specifically the necklace he kept tucked under his shirt. 

“What about it?” Jimin asked, having forgotten he was even wearing it. 

“You love it. Why?” 

“My mother gave it to me. It was my grandmothers.” Jimin fished the small pendant out for the two aliens to look at. At the end of a long silver chain hung two small pieces of metal, round, only about the size of his thumb nail. The front piece was delicately engraved with filigree, but was worn from both he and his mother’s fiddling. The back piece was a metal frame that held a piece of cloudy, imperfect glass. There was a pattern of some kind etched into the face of it that you could only see if you help it up to your eye, but it didn’t mean anything to him or his mother. Just something pretty his grandmother wanted to pass down. When he was little, he could remember his mother holding it up to his eye like a monocle and whispering to him in the most ridiculous voice to make him smile while his father boomed in the other room. She’d given it to him when he turned eighteen, and it had still been warm from her chest when he looped it over his head and never took it off. 

Just looking at it made him think of her, and thinking of her made him miss her, and he wondered, not for the first time, if she was worried sick, or if she was maybe just a little bit relieved that he was gone. 

“There it is…” Taehyung said gently, his face having gone all soft and pensive, cheek smooshed against Jimin’s shoulder. 

“What is?” He asked, trying to catch the Gem’s eye, but he was expertly avoiding it. 

“That familial bond...I have done and seen a lot of things, but it’s still one of my favorites in all the universe.” 

“Do you not love your own mother?” Jimin wondered, looking at his necklace once more. 

“I don’t have one.” His head whipped back up so fast and...and it had been two weeks, he ate the blue goo and he wasn’t scared, but the look on Taehyung’s face was by far the most unsettling thing since Yoongi’s supernova. 

“What do you mean, you don’t have one?” He cried. “How are you alive?”

“I told you,” He sighed, breath hitting Jimin’s skin and causing bumps to scatter across his collarbone. “Gems are anomalies.” 

And then Jimin witnessed one of the strangest things he’d seen thus far--Yoongi glancing over at where Taehyung was perched in Jimin’s lap, brow pinched into a frown. He reached over with one hand and gently tapped his shoulder twice before going back to flying. It was such an odd display of...of affection--The Spark was comforting him, Jimin realized. Whatever personality Yoongi lacked, or remorse or decorum, he understood that this fact--that Taehyung didn’t have parents--he understood that this made the Gem sad. 

“Sparks don’t have family either,” Yoongi tacked on before Jimin could say anything about it. “The hurricane births us.”

Listen, Jimin fully understood what it meant to absolutely hate a parent. He loathed his father with every fiber of his being, but his mother...his mother was precious. He couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like to not have her in his life. Not just not have her, but not have a mother at all. Not having her face be his very first memory, not living for her hugs and kisses, and not having her protection from monsters both real and imaginary. Even though she brought him just as much bitterness as joy, he would still never trade it. Never. 

Taehyung made a noise, halfway between a hum and a choke, and Jimin figured maybe he was thinking too loudly again, but even if he wanted to, he didn’t know how to keep Taehyung out anymore than Taehyung knew how to not listen. 

“We made it.” Yoongi said then, pulling his attention to the front shield where he was startled to see they had snuck up on a wonder.

_ The Oort Cloud.  _

Technically, Jimin knew what a nebula was: a giant cloud of dust and gas in space. But knowing it was made of hydrogen, helium and other ionized vapors didn’t make it seem any more real to him as they zoomed towards it center. Because it was pink. And red, and orange, and yellow and...and shapeless and miasmic, and cosmic. Pictures on his holo did not to it justice, could never. They were still far enough away that he could see the edges of it, hoving in space like a magnificent ornament hanging on the tips of stars. The closer they got, the more the tendrils of cloud swirled and danced, as if it were reaching out an elegant finger to guide them in. And it was then that Jimin realized: he was the first Martian to ever see it with his own two eyes. Possibly the first human from Sol to make it this far from home. He wasn’t sure if he should be excited or worried. 

It didn’t take long for the cloud to take up the entirety of the front view, on a scale of which Jimin wasn’t sure he could fathom. He remembered somewhere that the electromagnetic forces surrounding space anomalies tended to mess with equipment on ships, (like whenever they sent probes to Saturn), but Yoongi guided the shuttle in confidently. Taehyung, of course, could sense Jimin’s internal struggle; was he mystified or was he horrified? Jupiter only knew at this point, but Taehyung gripped him a little tighter nonetheless.

Finally, when his vision was completely swimming in iridescent pink, Jimin managed to ask,

“So your ship is in here?”

“Oh no, definitely not.” Taehyung chuckled, reaching over and flipping a switch on the console just as Yoongi was starting to reach for it. The Spark gave him a dirty side eye but didn’t say anything. “We’ll have to make a jump or two. Hoseok said they’d wait for us in the _Ostiuq_ system.”

“Jump?” Jimin squeaked, falling steadily into the category of maybe a tiny bit terrified. “As in, like--” But before he could even voice the pure science fiction that was hyperspace travel, he saw a structure start to take shape through the cotton candy fog. A giant ring of shiny grey and blue metal suspended stoically in the middle of the cloud, two antenna erected around the left side. Yoongi expertly shifted the console to the left to accommodate, rotating the axis of the ship to match the angle. There is no up in space, Jimin knew that, but it was still a little weird so see the ring begin to spin until the antenna were up, and know that he was actually the one spinning. 

_ Space, man.  _

“Space, man.” Taehyung whispered. 

“Is that what I think it is?” Jimin asked breathlessly. He’d fucking seen Cowboy Bebop, okay? Jongin had made him when they were kids. And that thing looked suspiciously like--

“It’s a jump ring.” Yoongi answered as he finished their orientation. “It’s for ships that aren’t equipped with hyperdrives. Like this piece of shit.” 

“Don’t you talk about my son like that!” Taehyung hissed, stroking a hand over the chair as if the ship itself had been offended. 

“Just prep him while I transmit our codes.” Yoongi sighed, flipping a myriad of switches again. Jimin was seriously starting to doubt they actually did anything. 

“Prep him for…” Taehyung drew out the syllable like a bratty child and the unimpressed look the Spark shot back at him said he would slap him upside the head like one too. 

“Read my damn mind.” He snapped before taking ahold of the steering column and pushing forward , urging the small shuttle towards the ring. 

“I can’t teach him how to be a Spark.” Taehyung snickered, lacing his fingers through Jimin’s and pulling him back to their shared room. 

“You try to tell _me_ how to be a Spark.” They heard Yoongi grumble, and they shared a grin at that. The ring got bigger as they drew closer, which was, you know, science, but Jimin didn’t get to watch like he wanted (although he wasn’t entirely sure he did want to watch? It was like seeing a shuttle crash--horrific, but you can never quite look away), because Taehyung put his body between the small port side window and Jimin, sitting him on the bed after grabbing a few things from inside Yoongi’s desk. 

“What’re those?” Jimin embraced the distraction. In the Gem’s hands looked to be some kind of decals, like you would tape on windows or the side of ships. 

“They’re mods. You know about mods.” Taehyung lifted one up for him to see. The material was white, sleek and plasticky, although up against the harsh light of the room Jimin could see tiny veins of neon blue running just under the surface. 

“They’re not like any mods I’ve seen.” The technology wasn’t necessarily uncommon, just not popular. It required surgery, delicate cranial implants that only had a 75% chance of working. The odds were good, but not quite outstanding enough for it to be a radical thing. Permanent brain damage was also a factor, and that turned most people off it. 

“You’re just not there yet. Don’t worry, it’s harmless.” 

"What do they do?"

"They help with memory and translation." Taehyung's fingers were warm as he tilted Jimin's face to the side and brushed his hair away from the side of his head, positioning the small mod behind his ear right against the crease of his skull, hidden by cartilage and hair. It felt a bit like he was applying a Band-Aid, gently smoothing out any wrinkles or air bubbles. He repeated the process on the other side and then stood back to inspect, maybe to make sure you couldn't see them at first glance. It felt like some sort of extension, like wearing earphones or dangly earrings. He was conscious of them, but as soon as they warmed from his skin he could see himself forgetting they were there. There wasn't any sort of psychological impact either, he couldn't suddenly remember everything since birth or even feel much of a difference in regards to language. Just felt like his very eccentric friend had stuck him with some ugly temporary sticker tattoos. "There's also not a lot of humans who don't have mods nowadays. It'd look suspicious if you didn't."

"Agust doesn't have any."

"He's a special case."

"Thought  _ I _ was a special case," Jimin muttered. Taehyung only snickered, “Still not gonna tell me why?” He sang on as the Gem moved back to the desk presumably to grab some more stick-ons. It gave Jimin a full view of the small window, and...he wasn't sure what he was expecting. Some kind of neon green interdimensional tube, or stars zipping past in streaking straight lines, but he was hoping for more than just...flat?

"Oh yeah, no." Taehyung hummed as he came back with another sticker mod, "it definitely does not look like that." Outside the window was a typical expanse of black, but without the normal universe of white stars. It looked like the bottom of a lake, dark and empty. Like when Yongbae tried to teach himself how to swim and nearly drowned in the founder's lake topside. Jimin had jumped off the dock after him and wound up staring at the bottom like it was some sort of gaping maw that would eat them both if he didn't get them out. The sky was just, black. But on the left, towards the front of the ship, the edge of the window was lit with a blurry pale yellow glow.

"What's that?" He asked even as Taehyung tilted his head back to expose his neck.

"It's easier to see from the front, but it's just a central disc of bright light." He explained while sticking a long decal from the middle of Jimin's Adam's apple around to the back of his neck. "Your scientists would call it the, uh...the  _ Doppler Blue Shift _ ? It's what happens when the wavelength of electromagnetic radiation shortens as the source of the light moves towards you."

"I'll be honest, I'm a little disappointed." Jimin joked, although he was actually. All that science fiction Jongin had forced him to watch all these years had really elevated his standards. 

"Your versions are prettier." Taehyung grinned, pulling back to inspect his work once more. “Although it seems like you’re more disappointed about not being a Jedi than how cool hyperspace looks.”

“Jedi are cool.” Jimin shrugged, tilting his face this way and that so the Gem could look. 

“They’re ships aren’t very practical.” He hummed, and Jimin wondered which he was referring to. It wasn’t like he had a vast knowledge of the Star Wars universe, but he did know for sure that Jongin would take that statement very personally, and Jimin suddenly found himself taking  _ that  _ personally. 

“These mods aren’t very practical.” He muttered petulantly, which made Taehyung gasp, whether he saw it coming or not. 

“How are they not!” He grabbed Jimin’s face in both his hands and stared at him practically eyeball to eyeball, which made him burst out laughing. “They’ll help you look like a Spark!”

“Yeah,” Jimin hummed, “until I open my mouth.” 

“It’ll be fine, you’ll see. The only one we have to worry about is Kyungsoo and that’s only if he scans you.” 

“Scans me?”

“You’ll see.” 

“You’re setting me up to get eaten, I hope you know that.” 

“For the last time, we’re not going to eat you!” Taehyung said exasperatedly, dropping Jimin’s cheeks to stand and lecture him like he was a professor back at MaHU, “Humans taste--” 

Before he could really get down to it, the shuttle jolted suddenly, hard and fast. Luckily Jimin was seated, but Taehyung tumbled across the room into the desk, limbs and purple hair sprawling. Papers went flying, the bucket can in the refresher came loose and sprang free, pods and packets from the galley dove out of cabinets, and at the head of it all, the Spark at the helm was howling in some guttural language as he yanked hard at the steering. 

“Yoongi!” Taehyung yelled as he tried to untangle himself from his own silk robes. “Yoongi, they’re--!” 

“Too late! Hang on!” He yelled, and Jimin had barely enough time to grab his purple haired friend and pull him onto the bed before they tilted into a tailspin too severe for their anti-gravity to keep up with. 

If being in hyperspace didn’t feel any different than normal, being forced out of it was like riding shotgun in one of the aperture drillers back on Mars. Shaking so hard he thought he might vibrate apart, and the overwhelming pressure pushed him down into the bunk, Taehyung squeezed on top of him. He could feel his heartbeat in his toes, and felt like he was going to throw up the past two weeks worth of blue goo. 

_ “Whaaat’s...happennninggg?” _ He wheezed, the words elongating the more they spun. 

_ “Theee rrrrriiingg.” _ Taehyung slurred back. Jimin squeezed his eyes tight, feeling a suffocating bout of euphoria that he’d embarked on the adventure of a lifetime only to be torn apart by the vacuum of space in a shuttle crash barely out of his own solar system. How terribly tragic...and expected of him. 

Just when he didn’t think he could take any more pressure on his skull, he heard something familiar through the blaring din of metal on metal and sucking air hissing every direction. 

It was his name. 

_ Park Jimin… _

_ Park Jimin… _

_ Park Jimin…! _

His eyes snapped open and zeroed through the opening where Yoongi’s grey head was twisted around and those bright white eyes were staring at him. But it wasn’t Yoongi shouting his name. No, it sounded too much like the crackle of a firework, too much like a flare shot in the dark. 

_ “Aggguuuuust…?”  _ He uttered, even as the pressure pushed down on his eyelids. 

_ “Yooooonnngiiiii!” _ Taehyung screamed, and as if he’d finally shivered apart, Jimin’s vision went white, the look of terror on Agust’s face the very last thing he saw. 


	7. Sharp

When Jimin was little, Reem used to get sick quite often. Sometimes it would delay her coming to Mars, or would hinder her from going home. Either way, both of their parents decided that it would be good bonding time for them, so most of the time he was with her. It wasn’t really uncommon for them to fall asleep in the same room, although they kept that suspicious childhood distance because at ten years old, even Martians believed in cooties. He distinctly remembered how, whenever he would wake up, she would be a hairsbreadth away, nose to nose, staring straight into his eyes. More than once he’d startled awake to her giant chocolate eyeballs, but he was never ever worried. Because for just a fraction of a second, his entire world was reduced down to just Reem, and he knew that Reem was safe. 

That was why when he groggily opened his eyes after the ship had rattled him apart, he wasn’t immediately frightened by the pair of eyes gazing down at him. It seemed perfectly normal, and he wondered what Reem had caught this time--_Some cough probably? _\--and wondered whether he should tell her about the insane dream he’d had about Agust De…

The fraction of a second passed a lot quicker than before, and Jimin realized that the eyes staring at him were not brown, but a deep, empty, _ black_. In fact, they were the negative of what normal eyes looked like: black where white usually was, and white where black usually is. Then, of course, he took in the whole face and realized _everything _was different. Where Reem was sun-kissed and curvy, the woman leaning over him was pale and salient, her cheekbones so straight and sharp he could see the points of them, making her seem even more angular and alien. 

Immediately Jimin reacted, jolting away without realizing what kind of position he was in. The last thing he remembered, he’d been on the bed in the quarters with Taehyung. Now he was in the galley, suspiciously and impossibly floating waist high in the air. As he jerked away, so did she, and he was able to catch a mild look of surprise on her edged face. 

“It’s alright,” She said but there was a definite difference between the words he heard and the shape her lips made, “I was assessing your damage. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” She gestured down to his wrist where a thick metal bracelet had been clasped over his pulse point. But looking down at that forced him to realize that his feet were not touching the ground, that he was hovering like one of the lawn chairs in zero-g. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d experienced a lack of gravity, in fact, it was a relatively common occurrence, he lived in space after all, but Jimin couldn’t quite wrap his head around why he was floating and the woman was not. There was no such thing as selective gravity. 

Without thinking he tugged the bracelet off and sank to the ground like a moon rock. The pain of it was enough to snap him out of it and scramble to his feet. 

“Who are you? What happened?” 

Comparatively speaking, now that he was on his own two feet (still wasn’t really sure how that worked), Jimin was a bit upset to find that the woman was taller than him...by kind of a lot. She wore all black clothing that hung off her frame with the air of someone who didn’t care how expensive anything was. And she peered at him with her opposite eyes, curious and oddly...pretty. She made a little noise when he asked who she was like she was surprised he didn’t know, and Jimin mentally cursed Taehyung for not preparing him for this, not preparing him for anything. 

Was this how he died? Would she eat him if she realized he was a Sol human?

“I am Tehlarrisa Abraxas.” She introduced, nodding her head as if to bow. Despite the circumstance, he returned it because he knew how to act in public. Surely society couldn’t be that different? “We were preparing to launch into the ring but saw your ship jettison out.” She said, drawing his attention to the cockpit where the jump ring was still visible through the window. “It looked like a rough exit so we came to offer our help. Your ship’s hull was damaged but my Keepers are repairing it.” 

Concern for his friends--_travel companions? Kidnappers? _\--notwithstanding, Jimin wasn’t necessarily afraid. Ill-prepared at best, but his naivety was serving him well because he didn’t feel like the strange woman before him was...well, he didn’t think she meant him any harm. She certainly looked dangerous, with her sharp cheekbones and inverted eyes. But her gaze was open as she took a step back. 

“Oh, thank you.” He murmured. At least he still had his manners. “But what about--”

“Your crew?” She asked before he could. The corners of her mouth perked up and he thought maybe she was going for a smile but missing the mark a little. Looking a bit more dangerous now, kinda like she wanted to eat him, but he wasn’t going to shoot a gift horse in the mouth (that was something his father used to say. What the hell does it even mean?). She had stopped her journey just to check on a fellow traveler. That was a kindness in the vastness of space that he had not anticipated. “We’re waiting for them to wake up, same as you.” She gestured to the bunk room where he could see Taehyung hovering and then over towards the nose where Yoongi was floating. 

But neither of them were alone. 

Jimin’s whole body seemed to lock up at the sight of...of _ creatures _lurking around his drifting friends. They were short, monochrome aliens, smooth and hairless. Their heads were teardrop-shaped and bulbous, nearly identical to the stupid comic book covers back in Jongin’s room. The stark anatomical difference lay in their knees that went in the opposite direction of normal human ones, and how their bodies were free of any gender differentiation. It was like looking at E.T. but he wasn’t cute or glowy. No, he just had his hands on Jimin’s Spark, and that was not okay with him. 

“What are you doing to him?” He took a few steps towards where the little aliens were rounding around Agust’s body, but Tehlarissa reached out and snatched his hand. 

“They’re checking his vitals. Surely you’ve seen an EMB at work before?”

“An EMB?” 

“An Emergency Medical Bracelet. This--” In her other hand she held up the silver cuff he’d pulled off himself when he woke up. 

“_Oh_,” He choked, “right, of course.” 

Taehyung, where the hell was Taehyung and why hadn’t he told Jimin anything? He felt stupid, like a child fumbling around with a Rubix cube. The colors were pretty, space was pretty, but he had no idea how to unlock its secrets. No one had told him the equations, and he felt lost. The only real tether he felt at the moment was Tehlarissa’s hand in his. Contrary to what he would have assumed, her hand was warm, and even though her nails were dead-star black and sharpened to a point, he didn’t pull away. 

“Why don’t you come back to my ship? We can get you something to eat and wait for your friends to wake up...together.” 

Jimin thought of the blue goo he’d been eating for two weeks, thought of how he was starting to hate the walls of their little shuttle, thought of how he’d lost his home, and maybe...maybe he should just start over? With Taehyung, with Yoongi, with this scary backward lady? He lacked the discretion his partners possessed, but he felt like he knew how to keep himself alive. He knew how to listen to the hairs on the back of his neck, and she wasn’t raising any red flags. 

“Sure, okay.” He sighed and that half-smile she had tried at before blossomed into an even scarier version...with teeth. 

“Good!” She grinned and started to pull him towards the shuttle entrance that he finally noticed was connected to a ship-to-ship airlock. “My protein resequencer has just been updated! You’ll absolutely _ die _once you’ve tasted the delicacies from Choth 910!” 

Should he have said something? Yeah, maybe. But he was too caught up in imagining what desserts from weird planets tasted like to see the beady-eyed glances from the Keepers who puttered around his companions. He did glance back, but only to see that they were following. The EMB made moving an unconscious body a snap. Yoongi just coasted along behind them, a grubby three-fingered hand on his head or foot to point him in the right direction. Everything would be fine, he told himself. And he believed it nearly to the threshold until Taehyung burst out of the bunk room in his flamboyant silks and wild eyes. And just like that, all Jimin’s tentative hope was blasted apart. 

“Wait!” Taehyung yelled as he threw himself into the common area, but then froze when he saw the woman. There was a tense beat of silence that Jimin assumed was because there was a stranger aboard the ship. But before he could explain via monologue how she had saved them, gone out of her way to make sure they were cared for by her creepy alien servants, Taehyung’s face—almost in slow motion—scrunched up, teeth gritted, eyes squeezed tight. His hands flew up to his ears and he doubled over as if in pain. A muffled grunt escaped his throat and that was all it took for Jimin to come running.

“Taehyung!”

Jimin was pretty sure he only had two instincts in his body:_ to hide and to hedge_. It was the reason why the only time he’d ever confronted his father was to protect Reem (although that didn’t really work out in his favor, now did it?). But it was also why he dropped Tehlarissa’s warm hand and clambered over to the purple-haired boy, arms outstretched, ready to just fix it, whatever it was.

Behind him, he heard Tehlarissa quietly whisper, “_interesting…_”

Jimin fretted around Taehyung for a moment before deciding to just steady him and planted both hands on his shoulders. Taehyung tensed immediately, muscles all locked up in invisible agony.

“Taehyung? What’s happening?” He pleaded quietly. He wanted to shake him (maybe smack him around a little but that was beside the point) snap him out of it. His tight condensed pain was starting to get scary and went against Jimin’s maxim that _he was not afraid_. He would also not allow Taehyung to die and leave him drifting in space when he was the reason Jimin was out here in the first place.

Almost as quickly as the episode had come on, Taehyung started to unfurl, blinking up at Jimin in bleary, but definite confusion. He was also breathing like he’d run a marathon, chest heaving as he shakily let his hands drop from his ears.

“Is your companion alright?” Tehlarissa spoke up, and the suddenness of it made Jimin meep. He’d forgotten she was there for a second. There, offering help and shelter, and delicious desserts from weird sounding planets. He went to turn around and assure her that everything was fine, maybe mediate a little since Taehyung was set on being broken, but the Gem grabbed one of his hands before it could break contact and gripped it in both of his. He seemed so off-kilter, disheveled in a bad way (not his usual way) that Jimin was getting more and more worried. Hopefully, Tehlarissa’s ship had some sort of med bay that he could lay Taehyung down in. 

“Just calm down, okay?” Jimin hissed lowly at him before shooting their rescuer his most nonchalant smile. “Sorry about that,” He said cordially, “He’s just shaken up from the crash.” 

Tehlarissa stood inhumanly still, her little Keepers still twittering about, staring intently at Taehyung and how he was holding onto Jimin for dear life, and her answer came too late to pretend that she was distracted by it. 

“O-Of course.” She muttered, swallowing audibly. “Nothing some _ ssarooshh _can’t fix.” 

That’s weird, Jimin thought as she gestured back towards the airlock leading to her ship. She didn’t seem this flustered when he’d first woken up. She did manage to smile at him, although he could tell that it was much more strained than before. But, in the end, she was helping them, so he nodded and started to follow her.

Taehyung jerked him back by the hand before he could take two steps.

“**_No_**.” He said loudly, voice wavering just slightly. 

“What? Why?” Jimin snapped, embarrassed that he was making such a scene in front of their rescuer. 

“Thanks, but we don’t need your help,” Taehyung said flatly, looking straight at Tehlarissa with the blankest expression Jimin had ever seen on him. 

“Please, it’s no trouble.” She said benevolently. Around her, the Keepers writhed a little, one still slowly pushing Yoongi’s floating body towards the door. “I’m happy to help.” 

“No,” Taehyung said again, firmly. “We’d rather not be indebted to a Sovereign.” 

Jimin balked. Hadn’t Taehyung told him that Sovereigns were as close to royalty as the galaxy could get? Why then was he being such a dick to one?!

“I ask for nothing!” She chuckled, relaxing more and more as Taehyung argued with her. The title definitely checked out, with how she held herself and her charitableness. “I told Jimin that he could try out my resequencer while my Keepers repaired your hull. It should be done soon.” 

Honestly, he never would have noticed it had Taehyung not been acting so suspicious. An arrow of doubt that pointed him straight to an obvious error--

“I didn’t tell you my name.” He spoke up through their arguing, catching them both off guard. He went through it in his mind again, thinking if he’d muttered it here or there, but she’d never asked and he never offered. 

Her expression didn’t betray the fact that she’d been caught, but it was all Taehyung needed to fling an accusatory finger at the airlock and shout, 

“Get the fuck off our ship!” 

She didn’t move immediately, and Jimin was suddenly sure he was going to see Taehyung jump down her throat by how worked up he was, but after a moment or two, she sighed dramatically, shrugging her shoulders.

“As you wish.” She made her way to the airlock, her Keepers scuttling along in front of her (they left Yoongi hanging...literally). “Although, I thought you of all people would understand,” She said over her shoulder as the separation subroutine was activated, “_Amethyst _.” 

The door between their ships slammed shut and their tiny shuttle jolted as her presumably much bigger ship detached. Jimin didn’t even bother to look out the window to see what it looked like, he was too busy watching Taehyung’s body tremor. He still had Jimin’s hand in his, and he was squeezing so tight he thought the bones might break. 

He was almost afraid to speak. The bits and pieces Taehyung did manage to tell him about sort of pointed to his race, his people--_him _ \--being a secret? Taboo, Yoongi had said. A stalemate in the war against everyone. But Tehlarissa knew what he was. Maybe even a little worse, she knew _which _he was, and that made Jimin feel heavy with guilt. He almost waltzed onto her ship without a second thought, the promise of desserts and nothing else. What had he been thinking? The Gem stared at the door she’d left through, gaping. And it was the first time Jimin thought, _ thank Jupiter for Taehyung_. Who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t woken up in time.

Maybe that’s what snapped him out of his daze, or maybe it was something else, Jimin didn’t know, but Taehyung finally turned his wide-eyed gaze to him, and he could see just around the edges, hints of terror. 

“Are you alright?” Jimin whispered, not wanting to startle him if he wasn’t fully back to himself. Taehyung shook his head no. “Here,” Jimin used the hand the Gem was about to break to lead him to the pilot’s seat. “Sit.” 

“We--” Taehyung croaked, looking out the viewfinder at the floating jump ring. “We have to get out of here.” And just like that, he was operational again. He twisted around in the chair, free hand dancing over the consol. But he never let go of Jimin, and even though he’d been wary about it before, this wasn’t like when he’d grabbed his hand back on Mars. That was teasing. This was...this was a lifeline. Taehyung was adrift in his own head, eyes barely focusing on the switches and buttons needed to navigate. All the while Jimin stood by his side like a lighthouse. 

“She said the hull was damaged.” He remembered, wondering if her creepy little minions had fixed it like she said, or made it worse somehow. 

“He’s fine,” Taehyung replied absently. Under normal circumstances, (when the fuck had those become normal?) Jimin would have chuckled at Taehyung referring to the ship as ‘he’ or his son, but it didn’t sit right this time. 

Eventually, it became apparent that Taehyung couldn’t pilot the ship with one hand, and the most disparaging look crossed his face as he let go. 

“Did we make it to the Ostiuq system?” Jimin asked as he took the second pilot’s chair, flexing and squeezing his hand to get the blood flowing back into it. He couldn’t tell just from looking, the only thing he could see was space and stars and more space. Yoongi never had any trouble piloting by himself, but he’d never seen Taehyung drive, so...this could be interesting. 

“Yes.” 

Taehyung flipped a switch and the shuttle staggered so hard Jimin had to brace against the control board to keep from smashing his face on a monitor. Their poor ship chugged once...twice...before making a sound like a dying animal. The lights flickered, the air hissed, and then suddenly...Taehyung wasn’t the only thing adrift. 

“Looks like he’s _not _fine.” Jimin muttered. 

Taehyung sat still for a heartbeat or two, just trying to breathe, but everything seemed to be taking its toll because then he was up on his feet, yelling about how they needed Yoongi, and why the hell wasn’t Yoongi awake yet? He practically ran back to the galley where Agust’s body was still floating in recovery and tried to grab him, but obviously Jimin followed, he’d be stupid not to. The kid was having a nervous breakdown, the last thing he needed to do was try to forcibly wake up the Spark. So Jimin grabbed him before he could. Taehyung was bigger than him, longer legs, longer arms, bigger hands, bigger shoulders, but Jimin was strong. He planted his feet and refused to let go until the Gem came back to himself. But he was yelling, not even words just pent up undulations that made Jimin’s head spin. Tehlarissa had done something to him, broke him somehow, and how was Jimin supposed to fix it if he didn’t know what it was? 

“Taehyung!” He shouted, trying to reach him over his own screaming. “Taehyung! Stop! Calm down!” He tightened his grip as the Gem tried to shake him off, but the fight went out of him at the last moment, pulling them both to the floor under Yoongi’s floating vessel. “Breathe, Tae, breathe. That’s it, in and out.” Jimin coached, now holding him together instead of apart. 

“She was screaming!” Taehyung finally, finally wheezed. “I woke up and someone was screaming. I thought it was you so I ran out but...but it was her!” 

“No one was screaming, Taehyung.” 

“_In her head_,” He stressed. Jimin’s bewilderment must have been palpable because Taehyung continued without being able to see his face. “I can hear anyone’s thoughts, any species, any being. Even those less evolved, I can feel their emotions. I’ve never been able to…”

“_Not_, I know.” Jimin nodded, loosening his grip, “You’ve never been able to not.” 

“But she wasn’t speaking, or feeling, or even thinking. It was just..._ screams_.” Taehyung turned to him, his eyes haunted and his face a little too gaunt. He looked like he’d aged ten years in ten seconds. It was extremely unsettling to witness him wither. “They started bouncing around in my head like...and I couldn’t…” He jabbed at his temple painfully, but Jimin took his hand, shushing him quietly. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“But then you touched me.” He switched, from awful to awe in his voice. “And it went away. Like a pin drop. Instant.” 

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” He said, and then in a whisper, “Are you sure you’re Martian?”

Jimin snorted “Fairly.” This wasn’t one of Jongin’s comic books. He wasn’t some alien prince sent to Mars to be raised by regular folk. He wasn’t Superman or even powerful. He was just normal, boring old Jimin who only knew how to cower and cover. Nothing special about him. “What about now?” He asked to change the subject. “Can you still hear it?”

“No. I thought it might come back when I let go of your hand but...it didn’t. It’s just your thoughts. And Yoongi’s.” 

“What’s the Spark thinking of?” He asked in way of distraction. Taehyung looked at the floating body for a moment, squinting, before saying a little smugly, “..._ you _.” 

“Well, that’s just...weird, okay.” Jimin sputtered. That possibility hadn’t even been in his wheelhouse, and now that it was, it felt kinda awkward. Why was Yoongi dreaming about him? Or was it Agust? He wasn’t the kind of person who could control his dreams, but who knew? Maybe Sparks could dream walk like in those ancient earthen myths. 

“They can’t.” Taehyung shook his head. That was how Jimin knew he was feeling better. 

Now a bit less panicked and a bit more aware, they helped each other off the floor and back to the pilot seats. “Yoongi will probably be out for a few more hours. He still hasn't gotten used to his body so he’ll need to recuperate longer.” 

“How are we going to meet up with your ship?” Jimin wondered, staring at his dead consol. 

“I’m going to open a channel and hail them. As soon as we’re in range, they’ll come get us.” It seemed like a rational, easy enough plan. Jimin was honestly a little surprised that it was coming from Taehyung of all people. “I heard that,” He scoffed, reaching underneath his panel and pulling at some exposed wiring. Jimin grinned.

“How will we know when we’re in range?” He asked, watching as Taehyung tapped some copper wires together like hotwiring a car in old movies.

“You are going to pilot us towards the Ostiuq sun, while I transmit.” A flash and a spark later, two of his screens and one of Jimin’s came back to life, albeit dimly. 

“I’m sorry, did you just say I’m supposed to fly?” Jimin asked sarcastically. Clearly there was a mistake here. He knew next to nothing about flying a ship!

“Welcome to your crash course. It’s easier to do than wading through subspace frequencies.” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

“As...as a heart attack? What the fuck, Jimin? That’s so morbid! Why do people say that?” 

⟢⟡⟣

The days were really flying for Jimin. He’d wake up, go to class, hang out with Jongin and Yongbae, and then he’d go see Solar. He told everyone that he’d gotten a part-time job at a shop at the bottom of an unspecified aperture, and nobody questioned him, not when the alternative was him making his father look like a fool somehow. His mother would look at him with dual doses of pride and sadness, kissing his hairline whenever she got the chance. 

Life was...normal? Life was how it was supposed to be, aside from the fact that Agust’s body was still in limbo, and he knew his entire solar system was hinged on an elaborate lie. Other than that, yeah normal. 

He’d settled into a routine. So when he hit the button for the lift to take him to Solar’s level, and it didn’t immediately go, he didn’t process something could be wrong automatically. Although, in hindsight, seriously how could he not? The lift for H-9 was large and a little outdated, but it had never failed him before, so he cleared his throat and announced again, “Level 287.”

_"Access Denied.” _

“Level 2-8-7.”

_ “Access Denied.” _

Jimin sizzled. His first thought was his father, but they hadn’t made contact in weeks, and aside from tormenting him to death, there wasn’t much the Governor could accomplish by having his son followed. Not when he was laying low like he was. Jimin’s second thought was the smokey police captain, and his stomach did little flips at the thought of her finding out where Solar was because of him. 

“Reason for denial?” Jimin asked the lift. The A.I. voice installed was robotic, unlike the synths who cleaned his home, so it made it seem even more doom and gloom when it’s scratchy recorder said, 

_ “Access to level 2-8-7 restricted temporarily by order of the Martian Police Force.” _

Smokey captain it was then, Jimin mentally sighed. Who else could or would flag an entire fucking level? 

“Level 286,” Jimin ordered, and the elevator immediately complied, descending so fast his ears popped. 

Exploring Mars had always been Yongbae’s forte. He liked to go down into the shafts and bring Jimin along until they were hunted down by their parents' security. He was the one who always found good restaurants and knew about secret underground clubs. Jimin only wished he could summon just a little of Yongbae’s courage as the lift clunked into the dock and he stepped off on a level he had never been to before. Ideally, they were all the same, all surfing around the giant chasm of the aperture, but it was a new set of faces that stared at him, and a new set of stalls that gave him no indication of which turn to take. 

Whatever, it didn’t matter. He _had _to. Solar could be in trouble. What if Moonbyul found her because of him? The guilt would eat him alive..._andshe’dneverfinishhisstory-- _but it was the guilt! Yeah, the guilt was what made him start retracing his steps, pretending he was a floor down. 

He surprised himself with how easily the blueprint came back to him, then again it was probably because he was near living in Solar’s bunker, hanging on every word she said. Maybe if it all turned out to be a lie--_the captain was a smoke monster, it wasn’t a lie _\--Fine, once he remembered everything, maybe he’d write it all down, sell the rights, make a movie or something. Jongin would find that endlessly hilarious. 

Eventually, he stumbled upon a row of closed hangar doors that resembled Solar’s. It didn’t occur to him that they could share their launch tube with anyone else. He wondered if their neighbors had heard their conversations, thought they were ridiculous, reported them to the police, has his father listening in--

_ Focus. _

Jimin looked around, hoping something would look promising. There was no real plan here. Maybe an emergency exit would appear out of nowhere or a staircase that could take him right to their front door. But alas, the only thing he saw was a musty grate for the presumably even mustier ventilation shaft. He grimaced. His only other option though was to repel down the launch tube itself, and he didn’t have near enough rope or balls for that. With a sigh, he knelt down and thumbed at the screws holding the grate in place. Years of drilling vibrations and relative neglect that left them loose enough for him to turn until he could pull the whole thing off. A cloud of red martian dust made him sputter, and the thing slipped out of his fingers, clanging to the ground in a huge racket. 

With a little more urgency in his blood, because if he got caught someone would absolutely tell his father, Jimin quickly crawled into the vent. At least it was dry, he told himself as he reached back and pulled the grate back into place. The shaft was tall enough for him to sit up straight, but not quite tall enough for him to crouch his way through. He had to, unfortunately, crawl on his hands and knees. There were only two options: left and right, and there was no telling which way would take him...anywhere. He just had to go down, right? But the farther he went, the farther he would get from his hangar, and there was no telling if this shaft even went there. 

“This was a dumb idea.” He grumbled, and then sneezed because it was dusty as fuck. 

He sat for an embarrassingly long time, wondering if he should just go home, if Solar would be there tomorrow, if this was his fault. But the longer he sat, the more a particular burning smell began to fill his nostrils. He took a big whiff--_it was coming from the left. _ Moonbyul, he remembered, smelled like smoke. And that fast, he was off, crawling like a baby through a vent towards the fire. It was dark, but not too dark to see, as every few meters there would be another outlet that let in little slits of light so he could see where he put his hands and whether or not he was going to fall to his death. 

He did, at one point, nearly fall down a bottomless shaft to his death specifically, but as he was pulling himself back to safety, the unreasonable thought occurred to him that he would eventually have to go _down_. The shaft was a typical T-joint, with the vent he’d been crawling continuing on over the hollow to Jupiter knows where. The separation between here and there was less than a meter, he could technically climb down, but there would be no coming back up. If he slipped, he’d probably fall to the bottom of the planet, or just keep falling until time ran out. 

Scared but determined, he shimmied up to the edge on his belly, peering over to see if he could make out an opening for the next level down. He could see a little indention in the shaft below that mimicked where he was and figured it was his best chance. 

Ironically, the thought of turning back never occurred to him. His only option was forward, quitting wasn’t something he could even entertain. Not necessarily because Solar was in trouble but because...because he didn’t want to? He wanted to be the brave Jimin she was introducing him to. The one who piloted starships and explored the galaxy. He didn’t want to rely on Yongbae’s courage--_he wanted his own_. 

Awkwardly, and with more difficulty than he would care to admit, Jimin maneuvered himself until he could descend, back slipping down on one side, and the sole of his shoes keeping his anchored on the other side. It was almost as humiliating as crawling, but worse because it was an ab workout too. He inched down the box, heart beating nearly as loud as the air conditioning, praying to the universe that this would be how he ended. As he inched, he gritted his teeth. Wouldn’t it be hilarious if the ban on the level had been lifted already? That he’d done all of this bullshit for nothing? 

Distracted, he didn’t feel the vent turn a corner under his lower back, but with the lack of tension, his toe slipped. His stomach nearly fell out of his butt as he free-fell for a microsecond. He tried to catch himself by pressing backward, but the wall was gone, and the only thing he got for his trouble was an edge to his back. In both equal parts grunt and squeal, he flailed before he could miss the opening completely, let his feet fall, fingers screaming for purchase.

_ This was a dumb idea! _

By the grace of some alien deity, Jimin managed to grab hold of the edge and keep himself from diving to the center of Mars. He wasted no time in hoisting himself up on the lip, barely breathing, trying to calm his racing heart. 

“Just get to Solar,” He whimpered to himself, “Just get to Solar.” He forced his hands and knees to move forward, back the way he’d originally come down another dusty vent.

In the new tunnel, the burning smell was much stronger, nearly choking, and it only got thicker by the time he reached a grate cover gently wafting with black tendrils of smoke. He pulled the front collar of his shirt up over his nose and mouth, and bravely peeked through the slats. 

It was his and Solar’s hangar, but everything was in disarray (_not like their normal disarray, the looting kind that you can’t comfortably recover from _ ). Next to the nose of the _ Sonyeondan _stood Solar. She was wearing a denim tank top/skirt combo that made her look much softer than he knew she was, and in front of her was Captain Moonbyul, pacing back and forth while some other police officers tore apart his sanctuary. 

“So this was your plan then?” Moonbyul yelled, and Jimin saw Solar flinch at the outburst. “You were gonna escape? In this hunk of junk.” 

“He’s not junk.” Solar snapped back, but Moonbyul reeled.

“It’s not a _ ‘he’_, Yongsun!” 

“Just because I can see his soul for what it is, and you can’t see past the pile of metal, doesn’t give you the right to--”

“Stop lecturing me on your cosmic bullshit!” The Captain screamed and pounded her fist into the nose of Jimin’s ship. It left a very visible and inhumanly large dent that he just knew was going to be a bitch to buff out. Moonbyul’s image blurred as she panted, furious and riled, and Jimin realized that the officers she brought with her didn’t bat an eye as they trashed the place. He’d asked her once how many aliens were on Mars, and now he knew she was right about her answer--he didn’t want to know. 

“You cannot leave.” Moonbyul finally snapped, but Solar didn’t flinch this time. She straightened her spine and looked the smoke demon right in the eyes and said, 

“I will not stay.” 

The Captain let out a roar that flickered and lights and made the vent Jimin was hiding in shake. What the hell was she? _“I forbid it! ” _

“My destiny is out of your hands.” Solar kept her voice level, although he could tell the statement made her...sad? He’d spent an obscene amount of time with her, he knew what she looked like when she was happy, or excited, or pleased. But he also knew how her face crumbled when she was sad, or how she never made any expression at all when her world was shattering. 

“Your _ destiny_,” Moonbyul sneered, putting bunny quotes around the obviously offending term, “is being locked in observation.”

“Putting me in another cage won’t make me see this one any differently.” Solar snapped, but at the same time, some of the officers came to stand behind her. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” Moonbyul sighed, stepping forward and putting her hands on Solar’s shoulders. She lowered her voice almost too soft for Jimin to hear, but he pressed his whole face to the grate. “I’m doing this to protect you.” She said, but Solar had the confidence to scoff.

“From who? From you?”

“From everyone.” The Captain said, and retreated, looking to her minions. “Take her.” The two burly officers grabbed Solar by the arms and started to lead her towards the doors. 

“Captain,” An officer on the other end of the room called out, holding up one of Jimin’s hoodies that he’d left behind a day or maybe a week ago. “What about the kid?” Ice curled in his veins. He’d crawled all this way to save Solar, only to be used against her. Classic Jimin move huh? Just prance onto the Sovereign's ship, why don’t you? 

“What about him?” Moonbyul asked, directing her question at Solar instead of the officer. “Is he going to be a problem, Yongsun?” 

“All he wants is the truth.” She answered, and then looked up...right at him. 

They locked eyes, and Jimin held his breath. It would be just like him to fuck this up somehow. She knew he was here, knew he was watching. She’d never told him what happened with Moonbyul, just a cryptic explanation for her hatred, but maybe he should have pushed harder for the story. Maybe if he had, he could have done something to prevent this from happening. Instead, all he could do was hold her gaze, hope that she would understand the amount of fondness he poured into it. Solar was his tether just like he had been Taehyung’s. But he couldn’t do anything for her other than that. 

_ Shy and Shield_. 

That was all he was good at. 

“Don’t we all?” Moonbyul sighed dramatically. Then, “Restrict his access and put someone on him.” Jimin gritted his teeth. 

“You should leave him alone, Byul.” Solar chimed as the guards led her through the door, Jupiter only knew where after. “It won’t end well for you if you don’t. You or your boss.” 

And then he lost sight of her. 


	8. Cage

“Jimin!” Reem shouted, and he blinked. The two of them were in the cafeteria in the _ Shelves _ , another typical chaperoned lunch, enjoyed over _ Coq au vin _ . She was staring at him expectantly, but he’d been lightyears away just a moment ago. It was going on five sols and he’d had no luck in his search for Solar. Given that he was being followed by Moonbyul’s goons, he was having a tough time. Tougher than usual at least. He couldn’t just skip into the nearest police station and ask to see their unregistered prisoners, and he wasn’t even close to desperate enough to go see the Captain directly. He told everyone ( _ see: himself _) that he would find her on his own, rescue her just like she’d rescued him in that club...but that was proving hard to accomplish, and he didn’t actually know how to do it. Solar always came to him, found him, talked about him. Even when he did manage to shift the focus back to her, she remained a mystery, and therefore, really fucking difficult to save. 

In the meantime, he had to act naturally so as to not draw attention to the fact that he’d seen them take her. That meant going to classes, hanging out with his friends, having lunch with Reem--who was still looking at him. 

“Oh,” He cleared his throat, “Sorry, I...what were we talking about?” 

Reem had just returned from Phobos and he wondered distantly which she actually considered home, if she ever bothered to name the concept. From what he knew, her family wasn’t that much more functional than his, and it couldn’t be easy to settle down when she had to make an appearance on Mars every few cycles. 

“I was telling you about the most recent socio-economic mishap on Deimos, but it’s apparently not very interesting.” Whoops. Passive-aggressive quips were about as close to pouting as Reem ever came, so Jimin quickly sat up straight and told himself to pay attention. 

“No, it is! I’m just...tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.” Or any night since he crawled out of that Jupiter forsaken air duct. 

“What’s on your mind?” She asked, clearly as good as Taehyung when it came to reading him. Or maybe it was the other way around. Or maybe he was just too easy to read. Her expression pitched downward when he didn’t immediately respond. “Are you and Yongbae still fighting?” 

“We weren’t fighting!” He whined, ignoring how the other patrons of the cafeteria turned to look at him. Even the Sims in the corner turned their artificial attention to him. _ The Governor’s son, acting out again, making a scene, whoop-de-doo_. “It was just a misunderstanding.” He said, a little softer, because he was trying to lay low, he swore he was. 

“Sounds like the opposite to me.” 

“_Reeeeem _.” 

“Fine, you weren’t fighting.” She huffed, “You were just very emotional..._at each other_. Is it over?” 

“Yeah, we’re good.” They’d agreed to just put it behind them, embark on a new start (_of course, Jimin had been lying through his teeth, but as long as his friend was unburdened, it wasn’t so bad_). 

“Then what about this part-time position I’ve been hearing about?” Reem slipped in as she quickly shoved a spoonful of quail into her mouth. 

“How do you know about that?” Jimin asked, but before she could reply, the obvious answer dawned on him. “_Ah _...my mother.” Reem nodded, although there was some tension beneath her expression. He knew that she knew that it was complicated for him to talk about some things. He didn’t like to open up about the giant gaping hole with anyone but Solar and things like hiding out in an aperture were just one step removed from it. “It’s...good. Fine. Taking a few days off.” 

“Why?” She asked curiously. 

“My...boss is...sick?” 

“Wow.” Her eyes blew wide, and for a moment he thought he’d really gotten away with it. “Sometimes I forget how bad a liar you are.” Scratch that. 

“You are being very unfair this morning.” He grumbled, catching the stare of someone across the room who quickly spun back around like Jimin was something scandalous. 

“And you are bullshitting. _Stop_.” Reem said easily, putting her spoon down. “Just tell me what’s up.” And really, why did he even bother trying to keep her in the dark? She always saw right through him, and he knew better than to think she would ridicule him or rat him out. But then she asked a weird question: “Did you...meet someone?”

They stared at each other for a very awkward moment, both trying to suss out what the other’s reaction meant in context. Why the hell was she asking that? What did she care? Why wasn’t he answering? Was he stalling because it was true?

“No, it’s nothing like that.” Jimin shook his head and Reem let out a comical sigh, like thank _ Jupiter _that was out of the way. Although it made Jimin wonder what she would have done if he’d said yes. 

“Then?” She prompted, and he figured, what the hell? It was just Reem. 

“I really do have a part-time job, but my boss was...I guess _ abducted _is the right word.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” She hiccuped around her kombucha. 

“She has some weird relationship with the captain of police and some uniforms came and took her away last week.” Jimin lamented, retelling (_without the obvious alien bits, and hiding in the air shaft_) about his adventure. 

“I believe the word you’re looking for is _ arrested_.” She said matter-a-factly. “What the hell were you doing for her, Jimin?” 

“Nothing!” He fussed, scandalized by her accusation, “I was just repairing her shuttle!” 

“Well, that’s enough of that then, hmm?” She said resolutely, “How much was she paying you? I know a guy on Phobos who is looking to hire some mechanics. Plus a change of scenery might be--”

“She wasn’t paying me.” He blurted, and it sounded like the whole cafeteria stopped. Reem stared at him, fork halfway to her mouth. Even the Sims along the wall who were ordered to accompany them were staring more intently than normal. “What?” He squeaked, wanting to shrink under the weight of their collective judgment. 

“I know you’re not this stupid so I’m waiting for you to explain.” She said coldly. Even though he knew she didn’t mean to sound like that, it still made him sit that much further back in his chair. 

“I can’t…”

“_Jimin _.” She said sternly, and he decided that she sounded more like his mother than his mother, and the dynamic between the two of them got that much weirder. Still, he relented, because he knew exactly how it sounded. He knew what she would say and how she would look at him. Funny how the truth was suddenly his most trusted cop-out. 

“She was...she was helping me regain my memory.” He admitted. It only took a moment, but then Reem was reaching across the table, her caramel-colored hand grasping his. 

“Oh, Jimin.” She said pityingly, “Thank _ Jupiter _they arrested her, she sounds like a grifter! She was exploiting you, preying on your obvious vulnerabilities.” 

_ Yes, thanks for that, _ he thought. Tehlarissa did that too. Apparently the whole galaxy could see and take advantage of his _ obvious vulnerabilities _. 

“Yep, I’m pretty dumb.” He agreed, adding a highly fake laugh to try and blow the whole thing over. 

Reem’s eyebrows pinched together as she took in his feigned surrender. She even let go of his hand, taking her warmth and comfort with her. 

“_Oh_.” She said with a frown.

“Oh, what?” He asked, trying to reel her back in. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore, wanted his explanation to be all that she needed. 

“You knew what she was doing, but you went along with it anyway.” She surmised, nailing him right on the head. Goddamn, she was too smart. This was pretty much the conversation he’d had with himself every day the first few weeks he was going to Solar’s: was she telling the truth, was she playing him, did he care? The obvious answer was: _ no, he didn’t care._ He’d made peace with the fact that Solar could have been telling him the tallest tale since Lord of the Rings and he would still go back. Because even a lie was better than nothing. It was scary how Reem could pick up on that, pluck it right out of his brain like she owned the key. 

“Well,” She said blandly, “I hope the story was entertaining at least.” This time Jimin’s smile was genuine. “I learned to pilot a ship and speak a different language.” 

“Yep, it’s definitely a con.” She snorted over the rim of her glass.

“_Reem _!” 

And just like that, the tension was gone. Her capacity to care--_or not care _ \--was truly astounding. It might be one of the things he loved most about her. He needed her in his life, at his right hand, because in his world where everyone cared about absolutely everything--she would be the one saying, _ ‘it doesn’t matter’ _. His father didn’t matter, being gay didn’t matter, being sad didn’t matter. He could just live his life in Reem’s world and the staggering amount of pressure that constantly threatened to snap his neck would be gone. What a dream, right? 

“What was this mysterious swindler’s name?” She asked after a little while, thanking the Sim who took away their plates quietly. She didn’t have to, but she did. 

“Yongsun, but I call her Solar,” Jimin said, and then asked if she wanted dessert in the same sentence. 

It was funny? He felt relieved to be able to talk about her with someone, even if Reem thought she was a criminal of some kind. It was like her name was his biggest secret, and the universe knew he couldn’t keep anything from Reem. 

“Hmm.” Was all she said, but so fast he almost missed it, he caught the little tick around her mouth that meant..._something_. He didn’t know what, and he didn’t want to push it. But it was there, and it was another thing he would have to store away for later. “In other news, my neighbor this cycle is quite eccentric.” She launched into another story and Jimin followed easily, thankful that they were finally done with his interrogation. 

“The _ Shelves _is full of those.” 

“Whoever they are keeps knocking on my wall and trying to talk to me.” Reem snorted, like that was the most ridiculous thing in the world. 

“Little do they know…” Jimin joked, earning him one of Reem’s rare smiles.

“Little do they know.” 

That she was a force to be reckoned with, and she was his true best friend. 

⟢⟡⟣

**Reem**

It wasn’t a coincidence then. Fuck. 

The evening that Reem arrived on Mars for the one hundred and ninety-th time, her usual accommodations in the _ Shelves _ were in an uproar. The hallway leading to the hospitality suites was crowded with bodies, uncommon to the hour. It was never _ this _busy though, as it was a secure wing. The group was crowded all around the door to the room on the right of her’s, writhing like the guppy's in the fish tank her brother loved to fuss over. Mostly men, mostly men in suits, mostly men in suits who were broadly built. Reem glowered. 

She hated men in suits who were broadly built. 

“Excuse me,” She snapped at the man nearest her door, “Do you have authorization to be here?” He turned to her, and she nearly lifted an eyebrow at his sunken face. His black clothes accented dark bags under his eyes and white, nearly translucent skin with veins almost too dark to be natural spidering just under the surface. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he wasn’t human, more like a hollow shell of one, similar to her mother before she passed away. The man’s eyes were dark, black, and he regarded her blearily for a moment before nodding, 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said quietly and then turned back to the pack at the door. It was closed, but a few of them were brushing up against it, like they didn’t dare open it, but couldn’t resist the urge to not touch it. Guppys.

“I’d do well to remind you that this building has a curfew. If you are not going to enter a dwelling--_leave _.” Reem ordered, trying to raise her voice over the thumping at the door. There was no way whoever was in there couldn't hear the racket the group was making, which led her to suspect either a) no one was in there, and these men were all on drugs, or b) the person inside was being tormented. She’d seen enough intimidation tactics on Phobos to last her a lifetime, and she knew what it looked like when someone was trying to disturb the peace. 

It didn’t concern her of course. Maybe whoever was in that room deserved it. What she wouldn’t stand for however was anyone disturbing _ her _peace. 

None of the men listened to her, but yelling had been a courtesy. Pulling out her comm, she brought up the concierge A.I. that resided over the _ Shelves _. The little hologram that appeared up from her screen was the top half of an androgynous person, wearing a white blouse and a stilted half helmet to indicate they weren’t human. Like she needed the visual reminder. 

“Greetings Ms. al Faisal. How may I assist you this evening?” It asked.

“Yes, there is a group of unauthorized personnel loitering in the hospitality suite hallway. I would like them removed.” The helmet blinked to life, little colorful lights indicating they were activating some subsystems. After a moment it said,

“I have alerted internal security. Would you like me to stay on the line with you while you wait?” 

“That won’t be necessary,” Reem mumbled and ended the call. She quickly badged into her room, relishing the coolness of it. The hallway was stuffy with too many bodies, and at least inside she could hear less of them. It took a few minutes, which she spent unpacking her things, but she heard security usher the men away with very little resistance. 

The whole thing was surreal, especially the sunken look of the man who’d spoken with her. But she just wrote it off as another thing Park Seungmin could be blamed for; letting his planet fall to drugs. In the new silence, she selfishly and very unladylike, threw herself on the bed and rolled around, crumpling her saree without care. This had been her second bedroom her entire life, and the few things she bothered to take back and forth had their assigned places in each. It was full of the things she wouldn’t ever take back to Phobos, things she didn’t want to share with her family, things that Jimin had given her over the course of their fake courtship. 

With a sigh, she stood to clean up and go to bed. Her schedule tomorrow was pointless and nearly empty, but the few things she did have on her docket were important; lunch with a businessman close to her father, a meeting with an investor (_ whom she would convince _ not _ to invest _), dinner by herself. All very important things. 

As she pulled off her pallu, she was startled by a simple little knock on her wall. She would have dismissed it as an accident, but it came again. Three soft knocks. And then a muffled voice,

“_Thank you. _” 

The following days were filled with lackluster meetings, elective classes, and that hesitant voice on the other side of the wall. It was a woman, a high, light pitch that seemed feeble, but Reem was born knowing better. It sounded a lot like her stepmother when she was trying to be convincing. Whoever she was, she wasn’t what she seemed. That much was obvious by the congregation she received every night. The group of guppy men came back religiously, no matter how many times Reem called security on them. Nothing could keep them away it seemed, with their ashen faces and blank expressions. 

But what really made Reem wary of the mysterious woman, was how she was always muffled, like she was pressing her lips to the panels thinking Reem could hear her better, thinking Reem would ever in a million years respond. 

_ ‘I’m Solar,’ _ She would whisper._‘I’m bored. Do you know any good stories? Any music?’_. She was from Deimos, an exchange student or so she said._‘Thank you,’ _ she would always repeat when Reem sent the men away._‘Thank you for caring,’. _

The thing was, Reem _ didn’t _care. They were disturbing her, it was because she wanted to, not because she wanted to do any good deeds. You know what they say about those, don’t you? So she ignored the voice, tried to keep those three soft knocks from tapping on her heart instead of the wall. 

Contrary to common belief, she did have one of those, a heart. Her family didn’t think so, they’d torn it out early on. Jimin probably didn’t think so, because he always looked relieved whenever she told him she didn’t care. But the worst part about her life...was that she _ did _care. She did, she just couldn’t afford to. Not when everything was at stake. 

She had a plan, a mission, and there was absolutely nothing that would stop her. That meant she’d kick and claw and step on whoever she had to to reach her goal. That meant she couldn’t care about their feelings or their hearts. She could never look down once she got to the precipice because all she would see were the lives she broke to get there. But it would be for the better, she told herself. She would destroy this disgusting regime their fathers had constructed, and maybe once her work was done, they would forgive her. 

But until then...she buried her head under her pillows to drown out the woman’s annoying gratitude. 

_'Yongsun’, _ he’d said, _ ‘but I call her _ Solar,'.

_ Of course, _ it was her. 

_ Of course, _ it was the same lying snake trying to take advantage of Jimin, _ her _Jimin. 

Reem returned from her lunch with Jimin heated, irrational. The thing that really pissed her off the most was when he admitted he knew he was being led on, knew she was exploiting him, yet he let it happen anyway. Like knowing what happened all those months ago was worth looking like a loser! 

Reem balled up her fists as she stomped down the hospitality hallway, smoking out the ears if she could. He could have just come to her instead! She could make up a stupid story as to where he’d been, and at least she wouldn’t extort him for it! This fucking galaxy had enough people trying to take advantage, she refused to let this one slide. Not when she had them so conveniently available. 

She stopped one room to the right of her’s and jabbed her finger on the doorbell. It echoed behind the door mutely, and she waited. And waited. And waited. 

“I know you’re in there!” She growled and threw all rationale to the wind, pounding on the frame. That was a lie, she had no way of knowing if the woman was actually in there, she just assumed on the hypothesis that Jimin said she was under house arrest. 

When no one came or even made a sound after five minutes, Reem stormed into her own room. She shouldn’t have this meltdown in public, that was for sure. And as soon as she was snatching off her earrings and pulling at her tikka, she heard those three fucking knocks and wanted to blow a hole through the wall. 

“I can’t answer the door,” Solar said, “I’m sorry.” It was so commiserating and weak that it only made Reem even more furious.

“Cut the bullshit act,” She snapped back, giving the woman exactly what she had wanted all along; interaction, initiating a conversation, “I know _ who _ you are, I know _ what _you are.” 

“What am I exactly?” The voice asked, more curious than offended. 

“You’re a con artist, a criminal!” Reem was..._ admittedly _ going a little far with this, but she couldn’t stop herself. “A thief! And if you think for one second I’ll allow you to get away with lying to the Governor’s son, you’ve got another thing coming!” 

“Oh,” Solar exclaimed, though muffled. “You must be Reem.” 

Goddamn it Jimin, goddamnit! Reem cursed; How much had he told her? Did he really tell her about their relationship? It felt like a violation somehow. They were supposed to be in it together. How could he be so...so...

“Jimin did say you were the smarter of the pair.” Solar huffed. “He obviously heeds your council more than mine.” Which seemed like a weird thing to say, but Reem barreled ahead. 

“That’s because I’m not lying to him.” She snapped back. “Every word _ I _say isn’t some fabrication to get him to do my work for me.” 

“I know for a fact that you aren’t going away.” Solar went on as if she hadn’t spoken, and this time it didn’t sound weak or mewling. Reem raised an eyebrow at the wall. “You’re too close to Jimin to leave, so I imagine he told you the truth, maybe not the whole truth, and you didn’t believe him.” 

“What?” Reem scoffed, “That you were actually helping him regain his memories? That you know anything about the time he lost?” She crossed her arms defiantly, posturing off with the plaster. This was undoubtedly the weirdest thing she had ever done. At least no one could see her. 

“I know better than to assume you’ll believe me either, but _ yes _ , I was,” Solar stressed, and if Reem didn’t know any better ( _ but she did, let’s be clear _), she would think the woman was telling the truth. 

She must be one hell of a liar.

“Fine, I’ll bite.” Reem entertained, “How?”

“That,” Solar faltered, “is a long story.” 

“I doubt you have anywhere else to be, _ convict _.” Reem dropped angrily to the end of her bed, staring daggers at the wall. She had other things to do this evening, but reports be damned. She was gonna hear this story. 

“Being a prisoner is not the same as being a convict.” Solar had the gall to snap back, but Reem didn’t bat an eye. 

“Tell me. Everything you told him, everything you were planning. I’ll decide what you are.”

“As if my life has ever been any different.” She sighed, and Reem was grateful there was a wall between them now because if anyone were watching, they would have accused her of looking relatable. 

⟢⟡⟣

**Jimin**

He’d taken to writing it down, the bits and pieces of his story that he knew. He didn’t want to risk forgetting again now that he didn’t have access to Solar. Who knew what Taehyung actually did to his brain, you know? But it felt so silly typing out that Agust was Yoongi, and Yoongi was a Spark, that he encrypted the file so many times no one but him would ever be able to see it. It was what he was doing when Reem barged into his bedroom one night. He practically threw himself over the holo to cover it, and then realized how preposterous he was being, like a little girl embarrassed about writing in her diary. But Reem didn’t seem interested in whatever he was hiding, she only marched forward and grabbed his hand. 

“Come with me.” 

It was late evening. He stuttered as she dragged him, past his mother and her Sims, out of their dwelling, down the lift to Topside. Through the glass dome above them he saw both of his Martian moons hanging in space; _ Deimos _ and _ Phobos _\--Reem’s other home framed by a glass octagon. 

“Reem, where are we--” He tried because this was really out of the blue for her. He had things to do in the morning (t_hat was a lie_), and he wasn’t exactly in the mood for another lecture. 

“Just come on.” She snapped, and that made him realize soberly that she was _ upset _ . He shut up after that. When she pulled him into the _ Shelves _, his stomach twisted into a tight knot. Could this be about Moonbyul? Was this about his father? Why would Reem bring him here of all places in the middle of the night? 

He still didn’t try to stop her, but he was starting to worry how this was going to look. They’d caught the gazes of plenty of people along their escapade, and Jimin knew for certain they were going to gossip about this. _ Oh look, weirdo yet gentlemanly Jimin is off to get laid. Oh look, Reem al Faisal is sure putting in the work for this arrangement _. It was that kind of shit that clogged up his thoughts as she shoved him into another lift and ordered it to the hospitality dorms. 

Fuck, they were going to her room! Jimin realized he was sweating for no reason, and Reem must have noticed because she dropped his clammy hand. It made him remember what it felt like when Taehyung had grabbed his hand that first time, that calm warmth that had coated his brain and made him feel like everything was going to be okay. He tried to pull himself together with that in mind. 

Reem wasn’t about to jump his bones, contrary to her statement in front of his father all those sols ago. Whatever it was that she had to tell or show him, she only felt comfortable doing it on her terms. So he breathed and trailed behind her as they got off the lift. 

Jimin had only been to her room a handful of times over their lives together, wanting to give her as much control over her space as he could, but he was actually quite surprised how lived-in it was. The suite was small, with an area for entertaining and a nice ensuite bathroom. Small, but homey. Reem wasn’t exactly a collector of memories, but he did catch glimpses, bits and pieces of her personality on the shelves and side tables; diplomas, photographs, art, and he figured, _ yeah, this must be her home _. It had nothing to do with what planet she was on. 

Reem dropped down on the edge of her bed without a word, and Jimin carefully followed, because Reem was upset and _ he didn’t know how to fix it but she came to him so he was obligated to tryandifthiswentwellmaybeshewould _\--

“Twinkle?” A voice whispered, and it must have been some kind of trick. It had to be. 

Jimin spun around so fast he thought his spine was going to crack, but there was no one else in the room. He whipped back to Reem with a pretty big question on his face, but she avoided his eyes, playing with the edges of her black and grey saree. 

“Is that…?” He muttered because he could scarcely believe it. He swore to _ Jupiter _and back that was Solar’s voice. 

“Twinkle, I’m in the next room.” The voice came--her voice! He recalled Reem’s eccentric neighbor and realized what was going on. 

“Oh my god, Solar!” He jumped up and started going for the door, but Reem snatched him back. 

“She can’t leave the room. It’s the wall or nothing.” 

Her nails dug into his arm, and her tone was...defeated. So much so that he had to stop and give her a hard look. Her grip was tight and she still wouldn’t look back. She’d called Solar a con artist, a liar, and him stupid for allowing himself to be taken advantage of. So there was a strong possibility that Reem was...regretful.

With a sigh that spoke of years of love he put both his hands on her shoulders and said, “Thank you,” He wheedled around until he caught her eye, “I know this is probably making you uncomfortable.” 

“If she shuts up after this, at least I’ll be able to sleep.” She grumbled and shook him off, rooting herself on the couch, and giving him as much privacy as she could. 

She probably didn’t believe Solar or trust her as far as she could throw her, but she knew Jimin wanted (_needed_) this story. He gave her one last smile, which she rolled her eyes at, and then he went to the wall. 

“Solar, are you okay?” He asked the abstract painting.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Moon isn’t going to hurt me.”

“She can’t keep you locked up like this!” He wanted to shout.

“This is no different from what she’s been doing for years.”

“How can I fix this? This is my fault, I’m sorry, I should have--” Been sneakier, been better at hiding their relationship, been faster, been braver. He should have been anything other than exactly what he was, which was a coward. 

“This isn’t your fault, Jimin,” Solar said sternly, and it was one of the very few times that she’s ever used his real name and not a nickname. “It was bound to happen. She wasn’t going to sit idly by and let us escape. But I need you to do something for me.”

“_Anything_.” He said quickly, and behind him, Reem made a sound like she was dying.

“You have to move _ Sonyeondan_. Moon will destroy him if she hasn’t already.” The ship, of course. It would make sense for Moonbyul to discard their getaway vehicle if she was bent on Solar never leaving. 

“How am I supposed to do that?” He asked. He couldn’t without making a scene, using his name and pseudo connections. He had to brace on the wall, a little light-headed at the prospect of throwing all of this out in the open. 

“Do you remember the club, the Helix? The bouncer?”

Jimin wracked his brain, “The big scary one with the shades?”

“No, you probably didn’t see her. Whatever, just go back down there and find Wheein. She’ll be able to help. She owes me.” 

“What about you, though?” He asked, and heard her sigh.

“I’m safe here, Twinkle. No one is threatening me but boredom.” 

“How about that crowd of goons that come every night?” Reem interrupted suddenly. Jimin looked at her and then back at the wall like Solar would be able to see his warning look.

“What goons?”

“Giant pack of testosterone stands outside her door every night. I’ve called security a dozen times.” Reem grumbled, crossing her arms and legs, a pose Jimin knew meant she was very very emotional right now. 

“Thank you for that,” Solar said quietly, but Reem rolled her eyes and he figured she’d said that a few times already. “They come because of my gem.” She added, except that Jimin understood instantly and Reem didn’t. 

“That’s idiotic.” She barked from the couch, “You’re telling me they grope around out there because you have a diamond or two?” 

“It's a Tourmaline,” Jimin explained, and Reem cringed.

“_Jupiter_, Jimin if she tells you that a heist of any kind is--”

“I didn’t steal it, it’s mine. But that’s why they come.” Solar sounded exasperated, but at least everyone knew where everyone stood on the whole Gem/Spark/alien thing. That was helpful. “Jimin,” Solar called again, “please go save my son. I’ll tell you the rest as soon as you get back.”

“_Oh, I’m definitely not a con artist, I have absolutely _ no _ stake in this game _.” Reem sneered sarcastically. Come to think of it, it might have been the first time Jimin had ever heard her be sarcastic. He turned around and looked at her like she’d lost her mind. 

“This is a partnership! And he doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to!” Solar growled from her side of the wall, and Jimin felt a bit like he was between two cage fighters.

“I’ll find a way to move him. It’s okay, Reem.” He told them both.

Wow, this was awkward. This was worse than Reem and Yongbae at dinner, or Solar in Agust’s hospital room. He could literally see the head bitch auras combat each other, even with a wall in the middle. 

⟢⟡⟣

There was no way he was going to get to the Helix without help, or without someone to act as his cover. So with high hopes but low expectations, he called Won Shik and asked if he wanted to go. In typical Won Shik fashion, he’d said yes and then invited five more people. And that was fine, of course. It’d make it easier for Jimin to slip away in the crowd and Won Shik wouldn’t be left alone on the dance floor. But there was a part of him that was a little hurt by the fact that his friend didn’t want to go with just him. Things had never been the same between them since Jimin came back, but it wasn’t anybody’s fault. In the words of the indubitable Mrs. De, _ ‘everyone handles grief differently’ _, and Won Shik’s method had been to just remove himself from it entirely. Like he said, Jimin couldn’t really blame him. If the roles were reversed it was very possible he might do the same, as weak-kneed as he was when it came to conflict. 

So he agreed to go with the Dragon and the other people he couldn’t remember the names of to H-9. It was lucky of them that the Dragon (_whose actual name was Jiyong_) actually knew the way and they didn’t have to stop and ask for directions, although Won Shik definitely brought up Solar and how hot she was. Jimin may have tripped him a little bit on purpose. 

The group of them crowded onto the lift to descend and Jimin took a steadying breath. He felt a little weird, dressed up just a bit fancier than he had in weeks. Nothing special, especially in comparison to how his friends were decked out, but the extra weight of the rings on his fingers made him twitchy. 

“Shik said things got a little hairy last time you came.” A soft voice said over his shoulder, and Jimin glanced back to Jiyong. He was an inch or two taller with bright orange hair swirled into a perfect coif on top of his head, son of the Finance Minister under Jimin’s father. Their paths had crossed hundreds of times, but Jimin could probably count on one hand how many times they’d actually spoken. 

“Uhh, yeah. Got overwhelmed and stuff.” He muttered, which was the truth. 

“Well it's cool of you to invite us all out, but there’s no pressure.” He said, and Jimin could tell he was being sincere about it. He had a reputation that mirrored Reem’s; aloof, and cold, but Jimin was grateful nonetheless. 

“Thanks, man.”

It wasn’t like he was going to ditch them at the earliest convenience...

_ He was going to ditch them at the earliest convenience _. 

The elevator landed at the bottom of the shaft with a mildly concerning slam, before opening to reveal the same bouncer from the first time Jimin had come, still large and imposing, still dark as night, still wearing sunglasses for no reason other than aesthetic. He camped in front of the door to the club like a sentinel, but it was impossible to see who he was scrutinizing as they all piled out. Jimin wondered what color his eyes were. Were they purple like Taehyung’s? White like Yoongis? Black like Tehlarissa’s? Or was he just a weird dude who wore shades in the dark? 

“Welcome back, Dragon.” He finally said, voice a thundering bass clef, and Jiyong tilted his head in thanks. Won Shik slapped him on the back like he’d done something exceptionally well before the door was thrown open and the deafening boom of the dance music beckoned them in. Jimin was the last to go, trying to make sure no one would notice him snooping around, but before he could follow his friends in, the door slammed shut. He saw Won Shik glance back before everything was cut off by the bouncer’s big arms sealing him off. 

Jimin staggered back a little at the force of it but wasn’t surprised. No, Solar had talked to this guy like a friend that first time. They probably knew each other. He probably knew she was gone. Jimin had the foresight to predict that much at least. 

“Hold on there Star boy. I’ve got some questions for you.” He was at least a foot and some change taller than Jimin, which made him look up and see himself in the reflection of his sunglasses a little bitterly. 

“I have one for you too.” He said and hoped his voice didn’t betray how uncomfortable he was. Solar said Wheein was a bouncer, so it would stand to reason this guy would know who she was, and maybe even know how to find her. 

“Where is Solar?” Shades asked, low and threatening, but Jimin was steady. He’d run every possible scenario on the way down here. Solar had sent him, so there was no way he could fail. Sunglasses took a stomp forward into Jimin’s space and he swallowed. He couldn’t fail as long as they believed him. 

“She was taken by Moonbyul.” He quickly explained. “She’s safe, but trapped. She sent me to find Wheein.” 

Shades raised a delicately pointed eyebrow. He seemed like he believed Jimin, at least for the moment, as he aura simmered down from threat level kill to scrutiny. “Why?” His big attitude must come with the tag, _ ‘it’s nothing personal’ _.

“Her hangar,” Jimin went on, “She wanted to make sure her ship survived if the Captain hasn’t destroyed it already.” 

“What’s the ship’s name?” He asked, and Jimin flushed. 

“Seriously?”

“Spit it out Star boy.” The man said, crossing his arms. “Gotta know if you’re lying.” 

“_Sonyeondan_.” Jimin murmured, not realizing until now how embarrassing it would be to say in front of somebody else. He must have passed the test regardless because the guy told him to grab his comm and he’d transfer the info to him. They tapped the two devices together, and the little screen that popped up on Jimin’s detailed a different location, somewhere on level 417. 

“And she’ll be there?” He asked, figuring now would be the best time to go and getting back on the lift. If Wheein was anything like Solar, he could handle it and be back before his friends wondered where he was. 

“Nah,” Shades said, “He is.” 

“He?” Jimin asked, squinting as the man just smirked at him. “Wait, _ he_? The ship?” He cried. Shades chuckled.

“Wheein got him out of there as soon as Solar got snatched, she's part retriever, you know?. We owed her that much.” 

Jimin really really had to squash the urge to remind him--_ and apparently everybody _\--that it was not a ‘he’ it was an ‘it’. But that would make him sound like Moonbyul, and that was the last thing he wanted to be, so he let it go. 

“Thank you. It means a lot.” He said.

“Don’t sweat it. We take care of our own down here.” And now he was standing in the lift awkwardly because he didn’t know where to go. He’d never actually planned on going in the club, on hanging out with Won Shik at all, and he didn’t even feel guilty about it. But now that he had the option...he wasn’t sure what to do. 

“They’ll notice,” Shades commented, crossing his arms. 

“Right,” Jimin swallowed, and suddenly he was more uncomfortable with going in there than not. He wasn’t sure how to be a normal Martian anymore, and they would see that, wouldn’t they? Like, he came down here with the express purpose of aiding an alien, of concealing their presence, using his friend and a scapegoat. He was nowhere near the Jimin he used to be, and it had never been more obvious than now. 

“Look, kid,” Shades sighed, “We know about you, alright? Us who aren’t from around here? We know you’re stuck in the middle. But don’t worry, you don’t gotta decide who to be right now. All you gotta do is make an appearance on that dance floor, and after, tell Solar ‘Oliver says hello’.” As an added gesture he reached up and slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose. The pupils of his eyes were gigantic like they would be if he’d smoked a lot of marijuana, but they were also a little oblong and a striking shade of burnt orange. 

_ Splices_, Yoongi had told him, _ humans cut with the DNA of animals_. 


	9. Spinning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit, this one is a little short and I apologize.

How does that one saying go:  _ ‘You never really know someone until you’re jettisoning through void space at 22 million miles an hour, about to incinerate in a malfunctioning corkscrewing shuttle together’?  _

Close enough. 

Taehyung was a lot of things--suave, gleeful, wistful, rambunctious--but calm under pressure (actual pressure from empty space?)? No, Taehyung was not that. There wasn’t really a way for Jimin to actually describe how deranged Taehyung sounded as he screamed at the very top of his lungs from the copilot’s seat. 

This malfunction was absolutely not Jimin’s fault, let’s just clear that up right now. His flying had been shaky at the beginning but cut him some slack, it was his first time. Eventually, he got the hang of it, how to control the thrusters, how much was too much, and he finally understood why Yoongi flicked so many switches (it was definitely not for the hell of it...or was it?). Everything had been going smoothly for the most part: Taehyung was on the array, flipping between frequencies to try and get a message to the Bangtan while Jimin steered them towards the biggest glowing dot. The jump ring was long gone, but they weren’t close enough for him to make out any planets or moons. They were truly in vacant space. And then...everything just went wrong. 

Jimin ticked the handles to the left to adjust for drift in the course when the cabin lights flickered again as if the shuttle was going to die for a second time. 

“No, no, no…” Taehyung whined, reaching over to thumb at a dial. He barely touched it, Jimin watched him, but like an electric shock, the shuttle jolted into overdrive. Jimin’s steering column locked, and whatever finagling Taehyung had done to get the thing to start, was now blowing out every meter in his dash. Bright flashes of fire and snaps made him see stars, and their nice coast speed was quickly accelerating, enough for Jimin’s ears to pop and for him to feel the plush of the seat as he sank back into it. At least Tae had thought to strap Yoongi’s body down to the bed while in transit. At least they wouldn’t have to worry about the Spark flying through the front shield. 

That would be the only thing they didn’t have to worry about. 

What actually  _ was  _ Jimin’s fault was the spinning. Whoops. It happened when he was trying to get the handles to unlock, he put his back into it, thinking enough force would give him back his control. Instead, it snapped the handles to the side and locked again, throwing them into a frenzied spiral. 

Down and up and left and right, faster and faster and faster, until the edges of his vision, started to tinge black. He was going to pass out. The human body was only equipped to deal with five g’s of force before things started to get messy. 

So now he was screaming too. 

The two of them together didn’t have a bad ring to it, a duet of crazy desperate screaming. He’d probably puke before he passed out, so how could anything be any worse? 

“We’re going to crash!” Jimin shouted, gripping the armrests of his chair, trying to find an anchor to keep himself upright and conscious. 

“There’s nothing to crash into!” Taehyung screamed back, and honestly? Fuck him for his technicalities. “Fuck you too!” Tae snapped before they both went back to screaming. 

The flashing lights of his consol were starting to bleed together. A little red here, a little green there, and a whole lot of black to blur him right into oblivion. 

“Taehyung!” He shouted, this time though there was a definite slur in his voice. 

“What?” Taehyung shouted back. He was looking at Jimin, maybe even reaching for him, but the pressure of their dive was unforgiving. 

“I like it when you call me Jiminie,” Jimin admitted, mainly because his brain wasn’t working? And he felt like if he was going to die, he might as well lay it all out on the table. 

“I know,” Taehyung answered. And of course, he knew, he’d said as much in the beginning. But Jimin felt like he had to explain, he had to make sure that the Gem understood. 

“But I hate it too.”

“I know,” Taehyung said again, and right before Jimin felt like he was going to sink under the waves of the pressure, he felt more than heard the undertone of the Gem’s voice: melancholy. Oh, how rich and deliciously sad he sounded. Jimin wanted to slip into that current and never wake up again. Because that was his life; that melancholy, that shade of dark blue, that taste of fake bitter lemons. He loved and hated so many things, and most of them were the same. He loved his mother, he hated her cowardice. He loved Reem, he hated her ambition. He loved Yongbae, he hated his contentment. Jimin wished he was so much more than a person the shade of indigo, whose life that was flashing before his eyes, was more than a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Just when Jimin’s pity party was really starting to ramp up, the shuttle seized worse than the two previous times, but it was enough to kick the steering back into the forward position, and their tailspin leveled out. His dashboard that was previously a rainbow of splotchy color suddenly lit up in a wave of illuminant white. 

“What’s happening?” Jimin managed, but his throat was hoarse and he had to swallow a couple of times before he could make words. Taehyung looked just as dazed as him, purple hair a mess, eyes big but distant. The pure blinding color reminded Jimin of Yoongi but the Gem shook his head when he brought it up. 

“Yoongi can’t control electronics. Besides he’s still out.” 

And how fortunate for him, Jimin thought as he slowly turned around and saw Agust’s body strapped comfortably to the bed still. While he felt like he’d just been thrown off his mountain and then down an aperture and then run over by one of the planet drillers. 

“Did...did it restart or something?” He croaked, his skeleton tender. When he managed to meet Taehyung’s eye, he was surprised to find him crying, full-on waterfalls streaming down his cheeks. “Taehyung?” 

“It’s the Bangtan.” He whimpered. As if summoned, a huge ship flew up from behind them, making Jimin look up to watch its belly glide over their small ravaged shuttle. “They found us.” 

Jimin had never seen a ship quite like it. Most vessels were shapeless, scientific things, meant to maximize this or automate that, they lacked any obvious character. But the Bangtan...the Bangtan had a face. The full ship looked as though it was modeled after an ant or a firefly, with a protruding neck and head (presumably the bridge), that connected to a body that sported two wings (where the engines were). It seemed whimsical, and a little uncanny, but from this far out, Jimin could clearly see an alcove on the top of the hull that looked like it was made for a shuttle like his. 

The ship flipped back over as the shuttle continued to slowly decelerate. At least someone up there knew that a rapid decel would have killed them both, and the bigger ship was just following along until they were at a safe speed to dock. 

Taehyung pulled a complete 180. He was up out of his chair running around the galley, what looked to be cleaning but somehow making a bigger mess. Jimin was much slower, mainly because his body was still confused and his head was starting to spin with yet another life-altering event on the horizon (quite literally). 

“Taehyung--”

“Let’s make a deal.” The Gem said from behind him, “You don’t like Jiminie, but I don’t really like Taehyung.” 

“Isn’t that your name?” Jimin rolled his eyes, trying to find the will in his legs to stand. 

“Yeah but you say it so formally.” He made it sound like he was doing bunny quotes. He was, Jimin saw when he turned around. “Howsabout, you call me... _ Tae _ , and I’ll call you... _ Chim _ .” 

“Chim?” He tested it out as he managed to push himself to his feet. He didn’t feel any particular way about it, good or bad, which he supposed was a win--but nicknames really shouldn’t be what they were focusing on right then. 

“You never told me anything about being a Spark.” He hissed, leaning on anything within arms reach to shuffle his way back towards the galley. “They’re going to know the instant we get on the ship!”

The Gem wasn’t phased at all, just happily making his mess while Jimin wanted to grab him and shake his shoulders (but he didn’t think he actually could at the moment). 

“You’ll be fine!” He said, but that wasn’t good enough. 

“Taehy--Tae, they’re going to--”

“For the last time, no one is going to eat you!” He snapped, finally looking up from his task. “No one is going to eat you. No one is going to hurt you. No one is going to touch you.” His face was completely serious as he listed each issue, and he seemed so grave, so important like Jimin had to understand. All Jimin wanted to say was,

“But you said--” 

“I know what I said,” Tae sighed, tossing the last pouch of blue goo over his shoulder into the recycler (good riddance), “but you have to trust me.”

“That’s asking a lot,” Jimin grumbled, crossing his arms. He’d distinctly been warned about fitting in, and now he was saying that fitting in wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Which was it? 

“But it’s not too much, is it?” Tae urged, and Jimin couldn’t handle his profound purple eyebrows. 

“No,” He relented, and just like that, Tae was smiling again. 

“Being a Spark is easy,” He began with a flourish, motioning for Jimin to follow him into the bedroom to ready the Spark for transport. “All you have to do is: sneer a lot, pretend you’re smarter than everyone onboard, and if you get stumped, answer any question with a question.” 

“Question with a question? How?” Jimin wondered as they unbuckled Yoongi. 

“How do you think?” Tae smirked. 

“I--ohhh.” 

It took about thirty minutes but with someone controlling their thrusters, initiating small bursts of reverse force, their shuttle was eventually going slow enough for the Bangtan to scoop them up. Just like with the Oort Cloud, the closer the ship got, the smaller Jimin felt. It didn’t seem so big when it was doing loopty loops around them. But as it was coming closer for the attachment, he saw windows, and through those windows, he saw people. Beings whom he had no idea how they would react to him. Did Taehyung even tell them Jimin had been dragged along? Were they going to be surprised to find some random Martian juggling the weight of their Spark? 

Jimin’s palms were sweating as he hooked one of Yoongi’s arms over his shoulder while Tae took the other. 

“You’re freaking out.” The Gem said quietly, good-naturedly, and come on. Hadn’t he been sobbing an hour ago? He was whiplash in human form, the definition of bipolar. 

“I think I have reason to.” He hissed back.

“They’re going to love you. I promise.” 

“I don’t want them to love me.” _Yes, I do._ “I just want them to believe me,” Jimin mumbled as they hauled Agust’s body towards the airlock. The Bangtan had completely encased their small shuttle, fitting nicely in its little spot. Turns out it was something like an emergency craft, but they used it for whatever they wanted. Like going to find new bodies for their Spark or getting something called ‘xltneep’, which sounded suspiciously like tacos when described.

“Don’t worry. Yoongi and I have got your back.” And Tae winked, but it didn’t help, and then he frowned because he heard Jimin say it didn’t help, and then his face turned sheepish for hearing it and Jimin wanted to knock him over the head with something. 

The outer doors started to hiss as the shuttle was acclimated to the pressure of the mother ship and Jimin told himself to just breathe. He had no choice now but to trust Tae, plus he ate the blue goo, and he was not afraid. 

The doors slid open and Jimin got his first look at a new alien, and he was...unspectacular. Come to greet them was a short but stocky individual, Asian looking, black hair buzzed down close to the scalp. He looked human in pretty much every aspect except that he had metal bits and pieces welded to his skin. One plate merged with his right eye, revealing a pretty blue gaze to match his other normal brown eye. 

Taehyung dropped Yoongi’s arm, leaving Jimin to stagger under the sudden extra weight as the Gem all but threw himself gleefully at the man. 

“Kyungsooie!” 

With a completely straight face, kid you not, the guy-- _ machine? Kyungsoo? _ \--threw his shoulder forward, hooked Tae’s leg and then straightened with the Gem pitched backward, effectively tossing him over his shoulder like a sack of moon dust. It was impressive, but really more concerning. There was no way that was just normal strength, he had to be enhanced. Jimin debated dropping Yoongi and bolting back into the shuttle, but there was a chance Kyungsoo was as fast as he was strong, and Jimin knew he wouldn’t make it. Before he could debate it out, Kyungsoo was stepping towards him, blue eye shining. 

‘The only one we have to worry about is Kyungsoo and that’s only if he scans you,’ Tae had said, and Jimin wasn’t about to take any chances. He couldn’t let himself be scanned so he stepped back, maneuvering Agust’s body until it was between him and Kyungsoo. Jimin used him to shield himself from the blue eye while feigning the Spark was too heavy (which he wasn’t, Agust really should have eaten more). Kyungsoo took another step, but before he could course correct, Tae was there, grinning over his shoulder and covering Kyungsoo’s glowing eye with his fingers. 

“Yoongi is fine, D-0.” He sang. 

“I’d like to determine that for myself.” The man returned. He had a deep voice, as deep as Agust’s but not at all raspy--smooth. 

“Don’t you trust me?” Tae pouted, but Jimin could tell it was for show. 

“No,” Kyungsoo answered curtly, and Jimin had to hold back a snort. 

“Hyuuuuuuuuuuuuung~” Tae cried, prancing out in front of him, putting another thing between Jimin and his scanner, “I’m hurt!” 

“No, you’re not.” Kyungsoo’s face was nothing short of deadpan as he looked at Jimin over Tae’s shoulder. 

“Come on!” Tae wheedled, and Jimin was surprised to see the partly robot man roll his eyes. Taehyung seriously had that effect on everyone, didn’t he? “Hobi is dying to see me!” Kyungsoo scoffed, crossing his arms. 

“Loud thinking brat.” 

At first, Jimin thought he was insulting Tae, but before he could absolutely agree, they were joined by another of the crew. Joined? More like assaulted. First, it was a screech in the distance, and then it steadily grew until he was there--tackling Taehyung, wrapping both arms and legs around him. 

“ _ Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv _ ~” 

The new man had dark red hair and wore both an ugly Hawaiian shirt and a manic smile. Jimin wasn’t sure if he was just screaming or if his language translator wasn’t working anymore. Regardless, it left him undefended and Kyungsoo wasted no time in advancing and lifting Yoongi out of his arms. The two of them--lying human and only part human--shared a long and intense eye contact as they handed off, but Kyungsoo’s eye never glowed, so Jimin assumed at the very least he hadn’t been scanned. Taehyung, for all of his obnoxious banter, must have some sort of actual rapport with him if the robot was willing to concede while Tae was trapped. And if things weren’t already uncomfortable, they got infinitely worse when the red-haired man detached from Tae and came for him. 

Jimin had just been relieved of his burden, just finally allowed to breathe a little bit when both his hands were captured by the crazy Hawaiian shirt. Up close, Jimin could see the man had pointed teeth and big reddish eyes to match his hair. He didn’t look correctly human, but he was close, like Kyungsoo. Still, the touch made Jimin panic, that age old reflex that made him snatch his hands back and shove the guy away. Why did they have to be as hyper as Taeyhung? If his crew members had been chill and professional, Jimin’s ability to lie would be so much better! But after being pushed, the red-haired man’s eyes went big and round, looking more and more insulted by Jimin’s reaction to his touch. 

“Oh, no, no it’s okay, Hobi!” Taehyung chimed, rushing over to them to placate the man who, frankly, looked like he was about to cry. 

Jimin didn’t even notice that Kyungsoo left with Yoongi tucked under his arm. Didn’t even register it. 

“Don’t worry, this isn’t Yoongi. This is Jimin! And Jimin doesn’t know, so it’s okay. Everything is okay!” It was the false optimism that really sold it. So much so that Jimin considered skipping the shuttle completely and just throwing himself out the nearest airlock. What’s worse was that Taehyung didn’t seem the least bit perturbed that the Martian had made the stranger cry. He looked between Jimin and the sniffling man like his explanation was spot on, foolproof. 

“Then where is Yoongles?!” The man half gasped, half sort of shrieked. And then he turned tail, Hawaiian shirt flapping behind him as he flew in the same direction Kyungsoo had taken Agust’s body. 

This was just how it was going to be, Jimin realized. Everyone associated with Taehyung was going to be insane. And that tracks, doesn’t it? What sane person would wander the galaxy with a mind reader, and a body snatcher? 

“You’re really hitting below the belt, you know…” Taehyung mumbled, motioning for Jimin to follow him into the ship. For a second, he couldn’t believe the gall, but then Jimin remembered who he was talking about. 

So, “No.” He said firmly. There was no way he was walking an inch more into this lion’s den until he had a much-needed disclaimer. Taehyung had promised to answer all his questions, it was time he paid up. 

And the Gem had the cheek to pout about it. He puckered his lips, honest to Jupiter, and looked up at Jimin through his lavender lashes, but the Martian refused to budge. 

“But Chiiiiimmmmm~” Tae whined, skipping back over to him and hanging off his crossed arms. He was deliberately heavy. Jimin had to plant his feet, but he refused to give in! He refused to be like all the other space chumps. He could be defiant when he knew there was no danger...

“You promised to give me answers!” He snapped, rightfully annoyed. “We’re out of time, and I’m tired of being in the dark about everything!” 

“But it’s to be expected,” Tae droned, sliding down Jimin’s leg like it was some sort of painful drama, “You’re experiencing a new culture, you're bound to slip up a few times.”

“Not at the expense of being eaten!” 

“Oh for the love of--!” 

“If you tell me everything I need to know, I’ll never bring up the eating thing again,” Jimin swore, making sure to catch his purple eye. And Tae was definitely considering it, peeking over the knob of Jimin’s knee with a critical eyebrow. 

“Promise?” He finally asked, and Jimin promised, but Tae looked unconvinced. “But we’re already here!” He whined. “I don’t wanna ruin the surprise!”

“ _ Amethyst _ !” Jimin shouted and relished the way the Gem flinched.

“Fine, fine, okay.” He grumbled, picking himself up off the ground. “You didn’t have to bring full names into it. What--”

“Who the fuck was that? Was that dude a Sim? Where did they take Agust? How did they save the shuttle? Is there anyone else? Why didn’t you tell them about me?--” Jimin speed listed, huffing with how heated it made him. He’d been with them for more than two weeks, he should have had these answers already!

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Tae chuckled, slinging an arm around Jimin’s neck like they were buddies again and Jimin hadn’t just ordered information from him like his mother used to when he was little.  _ ‘Park Jimin, you better tell me where you hid those Sim chips right now before your father gets home!’ _ And his face must have faltered when he thought of her because Taehyung was talking quickly and loudly in his ear, drowning out whatever homesick there was in his chest. 

“Kyungsoo isn’t a Sim, he’s a Cyborg: part human, part machine.”

“You called him something else, though.” Jimin wondered. Taehyung was leading them into the ship, but a deal was a deal. So long as Jimin knew what he was walking into, he would gladly go. 

“He started off as human, but an accident cost him all his memories, and both his legs. When he woke up, he didn’t have a personality anymore so they assigned him a numeric title, D-0. But don’t call him that.” Tae winked, “He gets all testy about it.”

“Which is, of course, why you called him that.” Jimin sighed, and Tae beamed. 

“Of course!” 

They were slowly making their way through maintenance hallways, a few windows here and there, but otherwise, quite boring to look at. Jimin would have thought that with their advanced technology and such, things would be cooler, more like that tv show Star Trek, or like Jongin’s comic books. But if he didn’t know any better, he could pretend he was at the bottom of H-11; newish appliances in a deep dark hole. 

“As for Hoseok,” Tae continued. “He’s the Captain we were telling you about.”

“But you said he was a Splice,” Jimin commented, remembering Yoongi’s explanation: the genetic cross between a human and a non-human. 

“He is.” 

“He seemed…” Jimin didn’t want to say ‘normal’ or ‘human’, but from the short interaction he had with the Captain, besides the pointy teeth, his existence didn’t scream ‘otherworldly’. 

“He was fortunate that his Splicer took extra care with his genes. Helps when he sticks around to raise you too.” 

“What is he spliced with?”

“Ahh, that you’ll have to figure out on your own.” Tae grinned. 

Eventually, the composition of the ship structure began to change until they walked through a porthole into a double level chamber. Towards the bow of the ship, one on top of the other, were two additional portholes (quarters, maybe?). And towards the stern, the door above led back towards what looked to be cargo or their engine access. The room below however jutted out into the space, past the metal rungs and stairs that let you go between each porthole. It was lined with windows on three sides and even the roof that showed a bright white room. Inside he could see Kyungsoo and Hoseok buzzing around Yoongi laying on a stretcher in the middle. 

“As for the rest of your questions: Kyungsoo probably hacked the shuttle, he can do things like that with the robot half of his brain as long as he has access. The crew of the Bangtan is always kind of in flux. I swear there are like three more people aboard but I’ve never seen them. I hear them sometimes though. And lastly, I didn’t exactly know we were bringing you along from Mars. It was kinda a last-minute thing.” The two of them trotted down the steps towards the infirmary, but Jimin halted on the last rung. Now  _ there  _ was a question he needed answered:

“Why did you?”

Taehyung turned back to him and gave Jimin a semi-serious face. He still looked charming and cheerful, eyes a little red from all the crying and screaming and near-death, but all in all, sincere. 

“Because Yongbae--” He started to say but that wasn’t going to fly with Jimin, not when he’d had two and a half weeks to stab holes through that answer. If it was just for Yongbae’s sake why didn’t they stay on Mars? If it was just to keep him safe, why bring him somewhere a thousand times less safe than his home? 

“That’s not going to cut it--” 

“Oh, Yoongi! You’re awake!” 

They both whipped their heads around and headed into the infirmary without finishing. Jimin put a pin in it, absolutely, but for some reason, he had to make sure Agust was alright first.  _ Yoongi-- _ had to make sure Yoongi was alright. There was just something bugging in the back of his head, that while they were being spat out of the jump ring, it had been Agust screaming his name. Agust was still in there, he was still alive. Whether Yoongi liked it or not. 

The Spark was laid out on a stretcher in the middle of the room, grunting like he’d just woken up from a very unpleasant nap. And Jimin didn’t even care that there might have been a line of people, some who probably had more personal ties to the parasite. He didn’t care because he wanted the Earthling, and everyone else be damned. 

“Agust?” He asked, rushing over to lean down over his face. “Agust, is that you?” Even with the silver hair (which worked on him, Jimin could admit it), he was still the same old Agust De from Halisca. He still had those lines around his eyes that should have been for laughing but were usually used for glaring; and the little freckle on his left cheek that was only actually there half the time; and his thin lips that went well with his round face. It wasn’t fair at all that Jimin was blessing his rival with all of his homesickness, like having Agust near him would solve everything. Like he didn’t still fucking hate Jimin’s guts. But it didn’t matter, because when the boy did finally open his eyes, they were the same dark brown that they always were, and Jimin got a little choked up. He’d been out for a long couple of hours, but he was integral to Jimin’s survival. 

In return, the earthling’s face blossomed into a look of awe, like he was looking up at something beautiful, like looking at the stars. The lines around his eyes were gone, and his face was free of any anger. He looked young, he looked surprised, he looked... _ not like Yoongi _ . 

“Park Jimin,” Agust said, and Jimin felt the tips of the Earthling's fingers brush against his ruddy cheek. His hand was cold, terribly so and it made Jimin shiver, but he didn’t pull away. Agust was supposed to be hot, was supposed to be fire. It wasn’t right, but it was all he had. 

“Hey, hey Earthling,” Jimin croaked because he had no idea what to say. “Hang in there, okay?” Why? What was Jimin gonna do about it? What could he do about it? Maybe, at this rate, he’d annoy Yoongi to death and the Captain would ship both the Sol kids back to their worthless lives in their own solar system. 

The moment turned bittersweet very quickly. The same palm that had been caressing Jimin’s cheek so softly, suddenly hardened, gripping his face painfully. Jimin yelped, but it only lasted a second because Yoongi was slapping his face away from him, a new startled look in his not black eyes. Gone was the brown, gone was the bond, gone was his hope--

Jimin stumbled back while Yoongi scrambled off the cot, nearly tripping. He looked disheveled and confused, and even when his crewmates went to him to help he snapped at them all to get back. 

“Give him some space,” Kyungsoo stated, while Hoseok and Taehyung hovered as close as they could get. But Yoongi didn’t care about them or the cyborg. He was staring--quickly morphing into glaring--at Jimin. It was just like the old days. 

“You,” Yoongi spat, pointing at Jimin who huddled on the other side of the room from him, “Stay away from me!” And then he fled, pushing the Gem and Splice aside, tearing through the corridor towards the crew quarters, an absolute hurricane of emotion. And everybody was...speechless. 

“Are we sure that’s Yoongi?” Hoseok whispered eventually, and nobody could really give him an answer.

**Author's Note:**

> **Glossary:**  
**Abrasax** \- a powerful entitled family ruled by Kalique Abrasax, owns Abrasax Industries  
**Aegis** \- space cops  
**Apertures** \- deep man-made chasms covered by domes, where the population of Mars resides  
**Celestial** \- a species of super old, all-knowing humanoids originating from Riccyria, also known as ‘Gems’  
**Cyborg** \- half-human, half-machine  
**Deadland** \- a planet that does not have access to RegeneX (example: Earth, Mars)  
**Deimos** \- one of Mars' moons  
**Dim** \- a species of smoke entities that can take shape and have mass  
**Entitled** \- a person of high class; entitled individuals are among the richest in the universe  
**Halisca** \- capital of Mars  
**Harvest** \- killing all life on a planet for the purpose of using its inhabitants as fuel for RegeneX  
**Io** \- one of Jupiter's moons  
**ISS** \- international Space Station  
**Luna** \- the colony on the Moon  
**Olympus Mons** \- tallest mountain in the solar system  
**Orous** \- located in the Canubulum system, known as the birthplace of humanity, capital of the Intergalactic Commonwealth  
**Phobos** \- one of Mars' moons  
**Recurrence** \- an extremely rare phenomenon which sees the gene pattern of one individual manifest in an entirely separate individual  
**RegeneX**\- a life-extending substance, when bathed in replaces old or dying cells with fresher, younger cells. 100 human lives are needed to produce a single portion of RegeneX  
**Sol** \- solar system that includes Earth, Mars, and Jupiter  
**Sols** \- days on Mars  
**Spark** \- a bioluminescent parasitic life form found on the surface of Jupiter than can possess other species  
**Splice** \- an engineered human, created by combining human DNA with the DNA of other species
> 
> **Martian Timeframe** \-- 670 Sols in a revolution, 10 months in a year, 67 sols in a month, 24 hours in a day


End file.
